Roadverse 01: Anything for Love
by Ironbear
Summary: Following a disastrous breakup with Robin, Faith parts company with the New Watcher's Council to travel and figure out who she really is now. She doesn't make it far...
1. Chapter 1: A whole world of damnation

**Disclaimer: **_Buffyverse characters belong to Joss Whedon and their associated studio owners. Other characters belong to their creators and corporate masters. I'm merely borrowing them for the duration, and I promise to put them back relatively undamaged when I'm done. Even the dead ones. ;) All of the stories in this series are fanfics, and not done for profit, only for my own amusement and the entertainment of possible readers. Or the possible entertainment of hypothetical readers. Or something._

**Author's Notes:** _This is the first story in the "Roadverse" series, aka "Oh, the people she knows..."_

_AU for the Buffy/Angelverse, post series finale: Chosen for Buffy, post season four for Angel. Seems like a lot of people have tackled the "What did Xander do after Chosen?", but not as many have gone into Faith's misadventures afterwards. Since Faith's always been one of my favorite characters, and definitely my favored Slayer, thought I'd take a shot at rectifying that sad state of affairs. Definitely AU: my regard for Whedon's treatment of his buffyverse characters isn't high after Angel and the last two seasons of Buffy, so I'm completely disregarding the "canon" of the Season 8 books. Takes place about a half a year following the events of Blade Trinity, my time line_

_No intentional character bashing on the Author's part, BUT: this is a series set from Faith's PoV, and there's people in the Buffyverse she doesn't have a high opinion of, so her attitudes will flavor a number of the views of people in here. She's a pretty strong minded character, and I'm finding she __definitely__ makes her opinions known. ;) Any apparent "bashing" is going to stem from that, and from whatever events are necessary to the plot line_

**This**_ story has been nominated in multiple categories at __**The Fang Fetish Awards**__ and was nominated in Best Movie Crossover at Twisting the Hellmouth's __**Crossover Awards**__._

**Word Count:** _71,994 so far, not counting notes, title, and disclaimer._

**I'll do anything for Love (But I won't do That!)**

**Chapter 1: **_**'A whole world of damnation between those two'**_

He'd finally come to grips with "that infernal contraption", at Dawn's insistence, some months after the collapse of Sunnydale. At least enough to manage email checking; note keeping, and document writing/filing. The first listed NOT being a skill he was particularly enamored of this morning as he opened and glanced at, then reread the first item in his in box And then removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose: his usual polishing routine bypassed as being insufficient to forestalling an early Slayer-induced migraine...

_To: _

_From: _

_Subject: Evil Bastard!_

_Date:_

_Yo, G-_

_You need to find someone for the NY Office that can keep his "Wood" in his pants around the Baby Slayers. Like, soon - I kinda broke the current one. You need details, ask Vi: said she's ok with fillin' ya in. I left her watching the place for now._

_I'm taking some time out._

_Laters,_

_- F._

_PS: I'm quit. I'll give you a shout when I'm fit to deal with civilized people. Don't look for me: wouldn't be pretty._

The "G" in question, Rupert Giles sighed heavily and sent the email to his Saved folder. He opened the next email in his queue, hoping the worst was out of the way.

_To: _

_From: _

_Subject: Not-quite-Red-Alert..._

_Date:_

_Hello Mr. Giles,_

_Robin's in the hospital, again, but it's not too serious: he'll live. Maybe. Haven't decided yet. He'll probably be calling you early, our time. I'll append his room number and hospital info at the bottom._

_You're going to need to send someone out to cover the school here in the interim. I'll keep an eye on things til then. Call me._

_- Vi_

Leaning back and absently beginning to polish his spectacles, he began regretfully doing a mental review of all the things he'd have to wrap up while his assistant made arrangements to book him a flight to New York City. Even before making a phone call to Vi for details, he had the distinct feeling that this was not going to be a long distance crisis to manage. Not for the first time, he wondered why he couldn't have possibly chosen a simpler and less stressful career path as a young man, such as possibly joining the SAS...

_"Every Slayer has a death wish. That's what gets them, in the end... "_ She remembered B remarking on Spike's comment from her and Buffy's occasional talks during that long bus ride from Sunnyhell to LA, after The First, and the collapse. Few times that they'd talked, anyway. For all of the upbeat "Let's go to Disneyland!" post-Apocalyptic cheer in the rush of surviving that battle, it hadn't taken long for Buffy to run out of post-slayage rush and sink into a grim, almost shell shocked depression. Not long for B, not for any of them, really. Too high a butcher's bill for any of them to be really "up" about it, even that irritating twit Kennedy.

Faith wasn't sure that walking, err... staggering... down the back streets and alleys of New Jersey's Waterfront at 4am, dead drunk, swinging a fifth of WT in one hand and smacking a three foot length of heavy chain against building sides and alley walls going "Heeeerrrrrrreee... vampy vampy vampy!" qualified as a "death wish", necessarily, but it for damn' sure wasn't exactly bright. Matter of fact, pretty far down there on the list of "not bright stunts" she'd pulled in her relatively short life. She was pretty sure she'd have a "WTF was I _thinking_?!" moment or two when she sobered up. _After_ she was far enough post-hangover for thinking to be an un-painful option anyway...

Truth be told, she hadn't been. Thinking, that is. Or at least, her thinking hadn't gone farther than a loop of "Bastard!" and "Just like a freaking man, anyway!" when she'd hit the first bar after bolting out of Slayers NYC, much earlier in the day. At this point, she was just past drunk enough to reflect that drinking hadn't helped any, and far too drunk for the thought to be practical. Goddamn Wood, anyway. Prick.

Leaning against a loading dock, she took a swig to wash down the ashes of her latest - only real - try at something beyond "Want. Take. Have." and "Get some, get gone" in a relationship. Not like the signs hadn't been there, looking back over the last few months from a colder, if soggier, perspective. She just hadn't seen them. Hadn't wanted to see them. Had wanted to keep seeing the Robin Wood that wanted her to give them a chance at something more than a quick roll, back in Sunnyhell, instead of the "just another slick talkin' male with a taste for young" he'd turned out as. Hadn't even taken him long past recovering from his Sunnyhell wounds and leaving the hospital, if she was reading the hindsights right. Just to Cleveland...

She took another swig, and ran what she was starting to call "The Loop" through her mind. Heh. Like she could stop running it...

**...**

_She'd come in off the road from Maine, parked the bike in the side lot and parked the new Baby Slayer in the hands of one of the older girls to get her settled in. Had expected to surprise Wood - she was almost two days early getting back. Hadn't expected to be the one surprised, walking into his room onto him and one of the younger girls, what-was-her-name... Kerri? Kelli? Something with a fucking "i" at the end._

_Standing frozen as there was a mad scramble of too many brown limbs in Robin's bed, him jumping up grabbing for his pants, her falling off him over the side as he scrambled out from under. Woulda been funny if it'd been someone else. As it was, freakin' comedy it wasn't._

_Long silence as the girl edged, too carefully, wide around her and out the door. Hot words, from Robin, too loud, not long after when Faith's temper caught up with her shock and took over her mouth. Icy words, too pissed for heat, when she replied. Didn't take long for things to go irrevocable... things said that niether'd be able to take back._

_Still hadn't had to have gotten violent. Not if the silly shit hadn't made the mistake of raising his hand to her, when she'd narrowed eyes and remarked "Well, at least you went for the barely legal, short eyes", with a smirk. Fucking insane to take a swing at a slayer, any slayer - much less one you'd just cheated on._

_Maybe it was the "short eyes" that did it? Robin'd never struck her as a man who'd hit women. But everyone has their snap-point... He wouldn't do it again, not with that hand. And it'd be awhile before he was walking upright again. Hadn't killed him though, she didn't do that any more. She remembered marveling a bit, in the back of her mind, that she held back.. she'd wanted to cut loose all the way, give in to the predator inside._

_Instead, she left him bent just a bit in the wreckage of the door she'd knocked him through, and stalked out trying not to blink away tears in front of the gaping mini-slayers lining the halls._

_Vi'd found her out back having a smoke, leaning against the veranda rail, still working on keeping the waterworks in._

_"Come out to give me 'The Talk'?" Faith growled. Any of the mini-Slayers would have shrunk from that look, fled from the barely contained rage radiating off of Faith in waves. Vi didn't - that was how you could tell she was one of the Sunnydale veterans. Girl had stones. Not much brains, to come out to face Faith right then, but hell for stones._

_"No," Vi shook her head. "Came out to see if you needed to talk."_

_"You knew?" Faith jerked her head towards the house, an encompassing gesture._

_"About this?" Vi shook her head. "That it was happening, off and on? Yeah..." She met Faith's eyes level. "You didn't really think that Xander 'snapped from Sunnydale stress' and beat the crap out of Wood for no reason, back in Cleveland? No matter what everyone said?"_

_Faith's look would have smoked through the girl, if Vi wasn't impervious. She looked away, instead, gazing into the smoke from her cigar. "Not really. You didn't say otherwise, though. Neither did he."_

_Vi nodded. "No one wanted to hear it. Buffy was wrapped up in Spike's death, Dawn was shook still, Willow and Giles latched onto Robin's explanation and didn't give Xander a chance... you weren't in any kind of a place to hear it. Majority of the younger girls knew, though. But no one was listening to them. He said not to push it." She shrugged. "Had to let you find out for yourself."_

_If there'd been any condescension in Vi's eyes, or a hint of a smirk, she'd have ended up with an adjoining suite next to Robin's at the hospital. Instead, Faith met her calm, sympathetic look and nodded, looking away again. "I think I owe Xan an apology. Too wrapped up in Wood to pull my head out of my ass and look at things square."_

_"And Xander didn't want to hurt you by telling you. You wanted you and Wood to work too bad - everyone could see it," Vi looked away. "Thought it was a bad call myself, but didn't figure it was my call to make." Faith nodded._

_"He told you, though. You listened." Faith made it not a question as she met the younger woman's gaze._

_"Me. Rona. One of the reasons that Rona went with him when Giles sent him to Africa, afterwards." Vi made a face. "I damned near went, as well." She met faith's eyes again with a level gaze. "You can't believe how pissed we were at them."_

_"So, why not?"_

_Vi shrugged again. "Someone had to look after Cleveland. Take care of the slayer-kidlets. Or should I have left them to Kennedy?" She smirked._

_That got a laugh out of Faith, but a bitter one. "Oh, hell no!"_

_Vi snickered. "Yeah... Time for it to come to a stop though. He's picking them younger." They heard the sound of an ambulance pulling into the front drive._

_"My cue," Faith sighed, dropped her cigar and stepped on it. "I'm gone, Vi. I can't face them... face that Kelli girl... and deal with this. If I have to be around her, I'll hurt her... and it won't be for her having sex with Wood, it'd be to take my pain out on someone." She looked off into the distance, at something Vi couldn't see. "Can't do that. S'not right."_

_"Where you going to go?"_

_"Dunno. Away," She shrugged. "Til I get my head around this." She looked Vi over and through, into her, with that intensity that set the two senior slayers apart from the later-called: made the term 'Senior Slayer' something more than just a nickname. "Can I leave this with you, til Giles can send someone?"_

_Vi nodded. "No probs. As long as Robin's out of it from here."_

_Faith looked thoughtful. "I'll email Giles, and call him. You tell him what happened - all of it. I think he'll listen to you now." She started for the door, turned suddenly back, "Thanks. And tell Giles not to send anyone after me. I'll be back when I'm back."_

She'd grabbed her bag from where she'd dropped it, inside. Grabbed her bike and pulled away while the ambulance was still loading. Probably childish to shoot Robin an upraised finger as a goodbye wave as she shot past where they were loading him, but she didn't care.

Short homecoming. New record. She hadn't even had time to unpack.

That was a lot of bars and way more booze ago. Had always taken a _lot_ to get Faith drunk, more since she'd been Called. She'd passed that point a long time back, and was now well into the point where if it wasn't for slayer-healing and slayer constitution, she'd have been courting alcohol poisoning. She vaguely remembered having a motorcycle when she'd started out. Had a vague impression it should concern her that she couldn't quite recall when she and it parted company. She wished (but NOT out loud) that the booze had put that distant vagueness between her and The Loop, but so far no dice. "One's too many; entire damn' brewery's not _enough_. My freaking luck." She snickered, then hiccuped when the snicker started to choke into a sob.

_"Oh. So that's what heartbreak feels like. I'd almost forgotten,"_ ran through her mind. "Bastard."

She paused, cocked her head blearily, and replayed the last several moments in her mind's eye-and-ear for something she wasn't sure she'd almost heard. Yah. There had been an echo to that snicker, and it hadn't come from her, nor from the side street she was currently on. But nearby. She focused as best she could without sending the world into a dizzy, nauseating spin. Yup. Thataway. Several voices, one whimpering, several with that smirking mean superiority that spells one thing to Slayer ears. A moment later, her inner sense confirmed it:

_Vampire_.

_Prey._

'Want. See. Kill.' "Hic!" With an absolutely feral grin she uncoiled from the dock she'd been leaning against and lurched off toward the sounds of death.

**...**

He'd been tracking the group all night, waiting for them to lead him to something bigger. Something worth killing.

Pickings had been slender in the months since Drake. The months since the Plague had swept through NYC and the surrounding areas, ashing the childer of the Line of Dagon, and even decimating all but the stronger of the other breeds of kindred. They'd begun drifting back, but slowly... the deaths of countless other bloodsuckers creating an almost supernatural dread of this area in the ranks of the undying.

These were a pack of minions, vampirlings, newly sired - not even pure-breeds. Not a one of them was more than a few years old. They wouldn't have dared the dead zone here, dared encountering the surviving elders of other breeds, unless a Master had moved into the vacuum as well, and drew them to him or her. He wanted the Master, not the minions. He could trail this bunch until they holed up at daybreak, mark their lairs, and resume the trail tomorrow night if needed.

He had all the time in the world.

At least up until now, when they found and surrounded a late night security guard walking the line of dismal industrial docks. And now he had a choice: choke back his disgust and watch while they killed and fed so he could continue his hunt; or move in and take them so that no innocent life was spilled tonight, no new prey were embraced and added to their pack. He growled under his breath, and choked down a curse, as they circled and taunted their windfall.

Not really a choice there, was it?

He stood and started looking for the fastest way down from his rooftop vantage and across into the alley where they were playing with their food.

He lost sight of them several times as he made his way to a rooftop at the end of the alley behind them. But, it was easy to keep track of them by the sound of their catcalls to the terrified man they were tormenting. Plenty of time... he could tell they were in no hurry to feed. They wanted sport more than blood.

Straightening above them, he began marking his targets in preparation for making his run. Four males, three female. Peice of cake, for him. He unlimbered the crossbow, planning to take first the ones that were the most danger to the human, giving him a chance to break and flee the alley. Flee the soon-to-be killing zone.

And then he froze as a new player made her less than subtle way into the scene.

A woman, not too tall, wearing a long leather coat over a set of skin hugging leathers, with a length of heavy chain over her shoulders and a half-empty liquor bottle waving from her left hand. He'd been aware of her, peripherally, as he'd been moving in, but given her uneven walk and the occasional gurgle from a bottle, had written her off as a late night drunk that probably wouldn't be factor nor a part of the fight about to happen. He'd paid just enough attention to her to decide that she was a) too drunk to notice any combat sounds from this direction, and b) on a trajectory that'd send her weaving harmlessly past out of the reach of any peripheral damage.

Ok.. so everyone's allowed to miss one call on occasion.

She staggered into the mouth of the alley, hitting one corner coming in, weaved to a stop in something approximating a cocky stance, muttered something under her breath that sounded to his enhanced hearing suspiciously like "Piss off, Spike", and said cheerily: "Here vampy vampy vampy! Hic!"

For some reason, suddenly a part of him found itself wanting to pinch the bridge of his nose, hard, and start frantically polishing his sunglasses. If it hadn't been for the sudden rush of Power rolling off of the woman in waves, he'd have been merely horrified.

As it was.. he was both horrified and fascinated. There was a certain impending train wreck feel to the developing situation. He just wasn't 100 certain who was the train...

**...**

The moment Faith weaved to a stop in the alley mouth, she knew she'd hit jackpot. Two victims, still alive, and at _least_ fourteen vampires. Or maybe seven. Hard to count when they kept moving around in circles.

Oh, lucky her. Luck to die for. Or from, more'n likely. They froze for a second when she made herself known, and then spread out, turning. Make that: 'maybe vampires'. Red eyes, and no ridges. Demons? But they might not be in game face yet...

Two of the ones off to the side moved around to flank her, casually. The one by the potential snack, or one of them maybe, turned toward her, and said "Wow. Fast food. Marinated even."

snicker "Cool. That'sh almosht a new line." She looked him over. "Beatsh the old and trushty 'Did shumeone order takeout?' routine by a mile." They watched her with a lazy predator's confidence as she approached, completely unconcerned. A pity that she couldn't rid herself of the nagging suspicion that they might be right to be confident, this time.

She'd managed to determine that there was really only seven of them, instead of the fourteen she saw frequently. Too bad she'd have to fight with one eye closed to keep them at that number.

"Cute." The one that was obviously lead Vamp here smirked, watching her. "Marinated food that comes straight to the plate."

She shot him a blinding smile, tracking the two flankers by ear as she stopped just out of a normal human's striking range of him. "Too bad you'll never taste it, leech. You'll be waayyy too dead."

All of them laughed at that. He cocked his head to one side, looking her up and down insultingly. "Big talk. Whatta youse think ya are? A Hero?"

"Naw." She winked, stuck a cigar in her mouth, lit it. "Ahm _The_ Shlayer. Hic!"

He froze for a second, as did the others. She dropped to one knee, smashed the top of the bottle off and sloshed the remaining contents over the nearest flanker, tossed the lit zippo after it. There was a sudden flare of heat and light, and a choking screech from that side as she grabbed the length of chain by the end and lunged, whipping it off from around her neck and forward. The end wrapped around the lead vamp's neck and she pulled back with slayer strength, separating head, chain, and shoulders in one smooth motion.

And then fell backwards on her ass as her target came apart in a cloud of flaming ash.

"Wow! Now that's _Cool!_" Faith's jaw dropped at the pyrotechnic display. She pushed herself unsteadily to her feet as the last of the ash drifted down, vaguely noticing two screaming torches from her left. She must've lucked out and gotten both flankers with the booze trick.

There was a curse from one of the other vampires followed by a snarl as she lunged towards the woman, only to find her momentum broken as Faith fixed her with a curious and absolutely icy smile. Cocking her head she asked, "Do all of you poof into flames like that when you croak?"

She never got her momentum back before the chain whipped forward again and took her head from her shoulders. "Look! Sparklies!" Faith turned her head to the stunned security guard and said, "_Run_. Now."

The three remaining vampires looked at the four piles of ash, looked at each other, their fleeing erstwhile meal, and then stared at the obviously very drunken weaving young brunette in front of them. And gulped.

Unfortunately, the only way out of the alley was _past_ the self-proclaimed 'Shlayer'... who glared at them with one eye closed and stated emphatically: "I'm _not_ going to shtand here until I pash out while you idiots make up your tiny little mindsh whether it's "fight' or 'flee'," and whirled that damnable chain around and threw it at the center vampire like a massive three foot bolo.

Not being a complete idiot, the center vampire ducked. Unfortunately for the female standing next to and slightly behind him, Faith's aim was a bit off - it neatly wrapped around her neck at twice professional fastball speed and crushed her spine and ripped her head off as it sped down the alley. Flaming ash drifted down a moment later.

With five of their number dead in less time than it took to trade one liners when she first staggered up, the remaining two decided they really didn't want a piece of whatever the crazy drunk chick had. They spun and lit out with vampiric speed to the end of the alley and up the back wall in a blind panic...

Straight into their other hunter...

**...**

He sheathed the sword in the back scabbard under his coat as the ashes of the last vampire drifted away. A faint smile curved one corner of his lips as he shook his head, bemused. That was almost entertaining enough to make up for losing his lead on the new master vampire, wherever he was. It wasn't often he saw vampires going into full on panic-mode - at least, not unless he'd caused it. Down below, the dark haired girl was watching enchanted as the embers of her last kill winked slowly out, an almost disappointed pout on her full lips.

Master hunting could wait, he decided. Satisfying his curiosity about the young, female vampire killer was far more interesting at the moment. He stepped forward and dropped off the building roof, landing silently in a crouch on the alley floor.

As quiet as he was, she still heard him land. Her head whipped up, and a wicked looking Hibben knife appeared in her hand as she focused on him. She overbalanced and sat down abruptly, still glaring at him over the blade of the knife.

"Hey! Don't push me! Back for more, huh?" Her eyes narrowed, then an appreciative whistle, "Sweet bod, dude. All three of you."

He shook his head, held out his hands palms out. "Not a vampire. Hunter, like you." He paused a moment, "Only one of me."

She closed one eye and looked at him, "Sho there is. Cool. Whatcha huntin'?"

"Same thing you are?" He approached slowly, careful to make no sudden movements, like someone approaching a feral and possibly dangerous animal. Which, after seeing what he'd watched shortly before, was pretty much the literal truth.

"S'cool. Need more hunters." She frowned. "Prolly not same things as me. Huntin' redemp.. redipsh... redemp_shun_. And love." A completely lost expression flickered over her for a moment. "Not doin' so hot in the love department. Total fuckup."

She levered herself uncertainly to one knee, then with a suddenly horrified expression, turned to one side and abruptly lost a major supply of booze, noisily. "Ooooooooohhh... "

He winced in sympathy. She raised her head, gave him an extremely serious look, and then in a small voice said, "I think I'm going to pass out now." Falling forward, she did.

Rolling his eyes, he walked over to her, and shook his head. Definitely not what he'd had planned for the night. He obviously couldn't leave her here as a late morning snack for any stray vampire wandering through, or for the cops. And it didn't look like he was going to be able to ask where she lived and then make sure she got there on her own...

"Redemption, huh?" he said softly, looking down at the small form. "And love." He lowered his dark glasses slightly to look over them at her. _'There's a world of damnation between those two'_, went through his mind.

With a sigh, he picked up her knife and returned it to the sheath he found at her waist, then hoisted her up into a fireman's carry, recovered the chain, and started working his way back to his car. He hoped she wasn't going to throw up again, this time on his coat or his upholstery.


	2. Chapter 2: As much of a scofflaw as

**Chapter 2: **_**"At least as much of a scofflaw as we are"**_

Hannibal King was stripping and cleaning a set of Optimized Infantry Combat Weapon systems - OICW's for short - at a workbench when a pair of lights lit green on a console near him. He glanced at the monitor bank, verified the familiar car coming through the gate. "Blade's back," he called over to Abby. She nodded, not looking up from the research she was still deep into at one of the compound's 'net terminals. King went back to his firearms maintenance, not looking up from his focus on the weapons as Blade entered until hearing Abigail make a small sound of surprise, the steady sound of keys clicking stopping abruptly.

"How'd the hunt go?" he asked. Setting down the rifle, he stood, then stared, surprised as he noticed that the big vampire hunter was a) not alone, and b) not alone because he was carrying a dark haired girl in leathers and a long coat. An unconscious brunette at that.

Moving over curiously to take a look, he couldn't and didn't even try, honestly to help his usual sarcasm from boiling out, "Hey, Blade-Man. I know you're more than old enough to go out and pick up girls on your own, but do the words 'Secret Hideout' mean anything to you?" He made air quotes around the word 'Secret' with his fingers as he looked over Blade's burden. "We're going to have to find you a place in town for these late night assignations."

Months ago, the flat 'I am Unamused' look that the big man shot him back from behind his dark glasses would have quelled him with a touch - just a touch, mind you - of fear. That was months and a lot of battles ago, and he'd come to know the man better as only fighting next to someone in life and death situations will do for you. So he returned the look with a smirk and an unspoken 'Yes you are' lift of an eyebrow instead of a nervous spoken 'Right then, moving along... ' and an abrupt change of subject. He'd gotten adept enough at 'expressionless dhampir reading 101' to translate the ghost of a curled lip as a faint smile, and shot Abby an unabashed grin in response to her 'You're such an _idiot_, King' eye roll

"So... 'least she's cute. You're changing her litter box if she stays, though." He stopped moving closer to continue his inspection as the smell hit his nostrils with a "Whoa!" and reversed direction abruptly, waving his hands. "Sheesh! You didn't pick _that_ one up at a bar, huh? Dredged her up from under a distillery, more like. Yow!"

Abby wrinkled her nose as well as Blade laid the girl... young woman... down on a semi-clear workbench. None of the three missed the slight clunks that accompanied her weight. The brunette made a smacking sound with her lips, tossed her head, and then let out with a slight buzzing snore.

Cocking her head at the dark man, Abigail raised an eyebrow. "King's lack of couth aside, it is a good question," she remarked. "Why'd you bring her here, rather than drop her off somewhere safe?"

Blade glanced at her and shrugged, then carefully stripped off the woman's coat. He raised an eyebrow at the weight in it, then laid it aside as he proceeded to remove a short-bladed sword and scabbard from her back, and several knives and wooden stakes from various places around her motorcycle leathers and boots. He then pulled the short heavy chain he'd also brought from over his shoulder and tossed it clinking on another table.

"She walked into my stalk," he nodded towards her. "And killed five - out of seven - vampires in less than forty seconds. Dead drunk and weaving. With that," he inclined his head to the chain. "Thought some curiosity was in order."

"Huh," King bent to pick up the length of chain, then raised both eyebrows and frowned, first at the thickness, then at the mass and length. It would have been a heavy and unwieldy weapon, even for him. He looked at the not-large young brunette with disbelief tinged curiosity

Blade watched the two check her over, King looking at the sword and combat callouses on the girl's hands, Abby giving her weaponry a professional once over. He hid a slight smile knowing the distraction'd worked for the moment, slowing down a rush of questions he wasn't quite ready to answer.

It hadn't completely been the young woman's strength and combat prowess, nor even her obvious unsurprise at encountering vampires, that had aroused his curiosity, not completely. _Vampire_ strong or stronger, vampire speed but obviously human and not dhampir, plus the odd resonance he felt inside from her... those made him curious, but he'd met other enhanced beings in the past and not acquired them. All of that combined with the slurred phrase that she'd startled and unnerved the minions with, initially, turned him from curious to fascinated.

He had the odd feeling she might be able to provide an answer or two to a personal mystery that had occupied him recently...

Hannibal's voice next to him, soft, broke his train of thought. "She's not completely human, is she?"

Cutting his eyes sideways to meet King's, he muttered, "Doubt it."

"So... who is she?"

"Let's see if we can find out, hey?" Blade shot a look at Abigail, "Mind putting her to bed in one of the sleeping rooms? When you get done, you can help us sort out who - and what - she is."

Abby gave him a look that would have been expressionless to anyone else. "Sure. I'll tuck your girlfriend in for you." She winked slightly at King, who snickered. She looked at the girl and cocked her head, "I'd better give her something to counteract the alcohol, so she won't choke to death before she wakes up."

Blade nodded, and she picked the brunette up easily and carried her out of the room.

**...**

"Okayyyy... " Much later, Hannibal yawned and stood up from where they'd been re-examining the small pile of personal items from their unexpected guest's coat, and the larger pile of weaponry she'd been carrying. He wandered over to refill his mug from the coffee maker, stretching. When the others indicated they didn't need any, he put the pot back and slouched heavily into his chair by the counter.

"Let's see here, whattawegot..." He began ticking off items on his fingers, more to attempt to shock his brain awake again than because the others needed the list.

"Thin wallet, expensive, snake skin One New York State driver's license in the name of 'Faith M. LeHane', NY address. One passport, same name, with stamps for Britain, Italy, Canada, and Mexico. One Pay Pal Mastercard debit card, also 'Faith Lehane'. One Platinum VISA credit card issued by Bank America to 'Faith Lehane' with a company name of 'International Watcher's Council', whatever that is. Photo-ID and security card issued to Faith LeHane by the IWC. One Gold Master Card, same name, issued by LloydsTSB with a company name of 'New York Center for Gifted Women', and several business cards from the same outfit identifying a Miss Faith LeHane as an 'Admissions Consultant'. One personal credit card issued to Faith Lehane by Wells Fargo, no company name, which is how we know it's a 'personal' CC. Roughly 400 cash and change... call it about 430 or so. Cell phone, short contacts list. Couple of paycheck stubs from the NYCFGW. Nice salary. Not gonna make Gates nervous, but you can live on it," he yawned again and followed it with a slug of coffee.

"Pleah. That's foul," making a face, he continued the inventory. "Drivers license has a motorcycle cert, which nicely matches the insurance and registry cards, not to mention the set of keys, for a BMW k1200, black and silver. Nice bike." He glanced curiously at Blade. "And you said you didn't see or hear any such bike nearby your encounter with her... " Blade nodded. "... So she left it somewhere before she tanked up on non-petrol fuels. Prolly a Good Thing: else she'd have ended up splattered on a bridge abutment instead of wandering into your sights, and we'd be bereft of this fun."

Abigail mouthed 'Bereft?' from her keyboard at him with a mock astonished look. "Hey!" Hannibal grinned. "I know your damn words," he quoted.

She snickered. "I'll do a check on impound lots, see if it's been towed. Not... can do a check of various bars later and see if it's parked at one. She'll probably want it back: I would."

"Damn nice leather coat. Custom, if I miss my guess, and I do not. _Easily_ a grand worth of hide there," he forged onwards. "Which brings us in turn to the sixty-four thousand dollarer: _why_ is an 'Admissions Consultant' for a private girl's school wandering about the docks-N-bars with some serious custom steel stashed away all over her?"

He waved at the counter, "One short sword, Damascus style blade, although my senses leftover from my previous life tell me it's not standard Damascus: there's _silver_ alloyed in the mix of folded steels there. Interesting technique: I'd love to know how they did that. Pattern strongly resembles the Kit Rae 'Mortoseth' sword, but that is definitely not an off the rack blade. Maker's mark says it was made by Shiva-ki, but Shiva-ki's never made a blade of that pattern that I know of. Wicked looking knife, also silver alloyed Damascus, Gil Hibben 'Jackal' pattern, but again, not an off-the-rack. No maker's mark. Boot knife with 7.5" silver-alloyed blade and ebony inlaid grips, Harald Moeller maker's mark. 10" bladed bowie with 'knuckle duster' guard in back-of-coat scabbard, same alloy, also apparently Moeller made. All of the blades give off the damnedest tingle when you pick them up, almost as if they held some sort of barely contained energy. But nothing that's detectable by any of our equipment... Throwing spikes, silvered steel. And, finally, several nicely fashioned wooden stakes. As if she'd been seeing too many Hammer films before going out leech hunting... but you said she looked like she knew how to destroy a vamp?" He raised an eyebrow at Blade.

Blade nodded, looked thoughtful. "But she seemed surprised when they burst into flaming ash. Like she'd expected a different result."

"Hrmm." King pursed his lips. "Interesting forearm rigs for two blades: like a wood and steel stiletto. Silvered steel inlaid with wood, maybe ironwood. Design's a bit like those injector blades of yours," he nodded at Blade, "only 7.5" retractable blades. No guns, but given NYC's and NJ's asinine firearms regs, that's maybe not surprising. Not that it stops us... and not like any Nu Joisey LEO's are going to look kindly on someone carrying almost 20 pounds of concealed cold steel on them, either. So she's at least as much of a scofflaw as we are."

He yawned again, looked over at the computer, and Abby. "Anything new there?"

Shaking her head, she yawned - bastard, it's catching - and recognizing on the brainstorming tone of his voice, picked up the recap where he'd left off. "More questions than information, like with the physical items. Faith Michelle LeHane, born in Boston, Mass 1985, currently 19 years old. Father unknown and unlisted, mother dead from alcohol related causes. In and out of foster homes until the age of 14, when she was released to the custody of a previously unknown relative from England. Juvenile record, sealed at 18, but nothing in it major: usual run of shoplifting, vandalism, public intoxication, fights, and some gang related crap. British aunt was murdered brutally when Faith was 15, Faith dropped out of sight, resurfacing later in California. I'll get to that in a bit..." She bit her lip. "Sounds like our girl had a pretty fucked childhood."

"According to police records, LeHane's not wanted anywhere. According to the California judicial system, she was a 'guest' at one of their correctional facilities for a brief time before breaking out. Murder convictions, multiple. Turned herself in. However... the assistance of some very high powered legal intervention from Wolfram & Hart, an LA law firm, got her original charges reviewed and her conviction reversed, and charges were dropped on the prison break. Probably with the aid of a bit of unofficial Official Intervention: Miss LeHane has a military file, but it looks like what you'd see in a spec-ops file. Thick jacket, no visible info. Not advisable to poke any more deeply at it: both W&H's files and the military and legal records are surrounded by some pretty stiff computer security. Don't want to go there unless we're certain we want to attract that kind of interest to ourselves: not certain I'm good enough to keep from tripping any flags on it."

"'International Watcher's Council' exists, has a rather uninformative and innocuous website. United Kingdom company with a branch in LA and one in Cleveland, Ohio. 'Who we are' Page doesn't list LeHane under their personnel Managed by a Rupert Giles, British citizen 'New York Center for Gifted Women' aka 'The Kendra Wood Young Women's Academy' also exists: exclusive private school located just outside of New York City. Has a much more detailed and nicely done website than the IWC. Headmaster listed as one Robin Wood. LeHane is listed under administrative personnel as an Admissions Consultant, and as an instructor with a specialty in unarmed combat and medieval weaponry." She drained her coffee, refilled it from the last of the pot, and leaned back in her chair propping her feet up on the computer desk. "I'll note that LeHane finished her GED in prison, a couple of months before escaping. _Very_ high scores. No degrees... odd for a school instructor, no?"

Continuing, "BOTH the IWC and the New York Center for Gifted Women have far more sophisticated computer security than one would expect. Again, not digging into there just for idle curiosity: we don't need the attention if I trip something, and I probably would. These places had their systems set up by some serious professional talent."

"Which tells us something in and of itself, no?" King put in.

Blade nodded. He added nothing else to the commentary, instead enjoying the quick play of minds as his partners dissected the information and the growing puzzle image.

"Gets even a bit more interesting when you back away from the sensitive stuff, and look elsewhere. Doing a broad web search on the names connected here, all of them, including Rupert Giles, Faith LeHane, and Robin Wood have a commonality: all of them lived or worked in Sunnydale, California prior to SunnyD's becoming Salt Lake Sunnydale the Inland Sea."

King raised both eyebrows and whistled. "Sunnydale? Weirdness Capital of the US?"

"Naw, that would be Eerie, Indiana," she grinned, "but Sunnydale, or 'Sunnyhell' as it was unaffectionately known by refugees from the collapse, runs a damned close second. 'Damned' used advisedly as an adjective. Highest murder rate in the US for the past century, even outdoing NYC, DC, and Chicago according to FBI crime statistics. Highest incidence of 'BBQ-fork related accidents' in the US."

Blade couldn't help raising an eyebrow and mouthing 'BBQ fork related'? silently. She nodded, "Deaths by exsanguination with twin puncture wounds on the neck or throat. Reported as BBQ fork murders or accidents when reported at all."

Hannibal shook his head. "Explains where she learned about vampires, anyway."

Nod. "Guess where it was that Faith resurfaced in California after the murder of her aunt? If you guess 'Sunnyhell', you are a winnah!" She yawned again and continued. "Damn coffee's defective. Sunnydale was also where the two murder charges originated. 'Murder''s probably overreaching for one of them: the death of Deputy Mayor Finch sounds like an accidental death from what news reports and records survived Sunnydale - he wandered into the middle of a fight in the bad part of town, late at night. Faith's attorney obviously thought so, and the later reviewing judge agreed. Other was overturned in review from lack of actual evidence present in the original trial, and evidence of bungled police work presented by her attorneys and testimony of surviving Sunnydale Police officers: evidentially, Sunnydale's Lamest had wanted the case closed and did the usual - grabbed a convenient suspect and theory, bashed to fit, filed to hide. Faith did confess to both when she turned herself in, according to court records, but according to the investigator who came in with her, one 'Angel' formerly of Angel Investigations of LA, and testimony of one Wesley Wyndham Price, one of her other victims, there's considerable doubt that she was legally _sane_ when she confessed."

"Tortured him," Abby explained to King's inquiring look, and mouthed 'Victims?' That got back an 'Ow, sorry I asked' look. "'Angel' NLN, NMI, is current CEO of Wolfram & Hart's LA branch, and a former Sunnyhell resident. According to the testimony of another testifying officer, Kate Locksley formerly of the LAPD: Faith attempted to kill Angel under contract, and he was able to convince her to turn herself in, instead."

That raised an eyebrow from Blade. She smirked, "Gets moreso. Rupert Giles of the IWC was formerly curator of the British Museum, followed by former Head Librarian of Sunnydale High. No information on any connections to LeHane.. probably swallowed in the sinkhole. Wyndham Price moved to LA from Sunnydale, and was employed by Angel Investigations. Robin Wood, of the NY Center for Gifted Women? Former principal of the rebuilt Sunnydale High School. It was blowed up at graduation," she replied to Hannibal's inquiring look. "Blowed up real good, according to the brief article that made the LA Times. Gas leak."

King rolled his eyes. "I'm going to stop asking."

"Good plan," she smirked. "Faith doesn't seem to have racked up any new criminal history since her escape and later 'clearing'. However, she does seem to have added a lot more mystery associated with her new/current job and post-Sunnydale history. Not that that's a Bad Thing necessarily, considering present company, but it is interesting. Physically... also interesting." Noticing King's smirk, she rolled her eyes, "In addition to her effect on male hormones, I mean. Dark brown hair, almost black. Brown eyes. Drivers license says she's 5'6", although I'd say 5'5" maybe... be easier to tell when she's vertical again. In excellent shape: obviously has done some _serious_ exercise regimens. Tribal tattoo on right arm. Impressive amount of scar tissue, all old: Knife wounds, especially one in the left side of her stomach that looks like it should have been fatal. Wounds that look like they were made by claws. Others that look like teeth wounds. Including indication of mysterious 'BBQ fork related injury'. If I didn't know she was in her 20's, I'd think she was a veteran combat soldier in her late 30's... " She gave Blade an inquiring look.

He nodded. "Moves like a fighter. Trained... " He brought up the mind's eye images from watching her against the pack of vampirlings. "Not military. Not police. But trained. Even intoxicated enough to kill most normal people her size, has excellent situational awareness. Stronger, faster than a typical vampire... possibly as strong as me." King whistled. Blade nodded. He had a good idea of what kind of strength it took to decapitate a vampire, and she'd done it _easily_, made it look effortless. With a length of chain that'd impressed Hannibal when he hefted it. "She did all of the kills with that chain, and a half-bottle of booze and a lighter, so I didn't get to see any hand-to-hand fighting style. Willing to bet she has some. Possibly several."

King nodded. Blade had described the op and Faith's entry and actions in it earlier, in detail. Short, clipped sentences, yes, but detailed. Hannibal wouldn't have bet much against LeHane having skills in multiple combat arts, either. Especially not with "Unarmed and Medieval Weaponry Instructor" on her resume, even if that might be - probably was - a cover job. He leaned his head back, err... to ponder. Inside of his eyelids needed inspection, anyway.

"And she's definitely not human." Abigail went on, "She's heavier than she should be for her size: as if she has slightly denser muscle and bone structure. Seems to heal faster than normal: she'd evidentially been in recent fights before you brought her in; bruises were starting to fade as I was putting her to bed. Almost as I watched." She left out that she'd picked up a weird buzz from the girl when she'd picked her up to carry her to one of the quarters areas. She'd found that slightly disturbing... not unpleasant, but odd.

"Not a vampire," Hannibal supplied. "Not a dhampir, either. She doesn't register to me on that sense... although she does give off an odd 'vibe' to my inner senses." Slouched back with his eyes closed and aimed at the ceiling, he missed the slight reaction from Abby.

Blade cracked his knuckles, shrugged.

"So, again... whattawegot?" King asked, not opening his eyes. "Someone with a shaky, violent past, at least as shaky and violent as any of ours. Childhood that sounds like I wouldn't wish it on even the kids I hated in grade school. Associated with several interesting organizations, all of whom have enough computer security that Abby gets paranoid about trying to pry. And I agree - paranoia is a Good Thing in that area, in our line of work. Has a blacked out military file, that kinda wigs me a bit. I also agree: really don't want to poke at that. Might get bit. Good with weapons," he held up a finger to forestall objections no one was making. "Anyone who owns and carries that kind of custom steel knows how to use it. And the grips look worn, which matches the callous on her hands. Lots of combat experience, up close and personal. Or at least combat _damage_. Has survived at least two vamp attacks. Has interesting friends. And probably interesting enemies. Associated at least peripherally with a recent-and-odd crater in California that used to be a town."

"She was - briefly and unofficially - linked to the group of people who were reportedly the last people to escape from what I shall dub 'Sunnyhole'," Abby supplied.

King nodded. "Ok, I miss anything?"

Abigail looked thoughtful, "There's the 'Slayer' reference from Blade's account of the fight. He said she'd said it almost like a Title, and it seemed to register on the vamplings."

"Don't ring a bell to me," King shrugged. "You?"

Abby said "Not offhand. Some vague references on line.. but I haven't had time to chase them down yet. I have a spyder chasing down items associated with that phrase, booleans thereof, and variants. It'll probably be a huge download, mostly full of garbage. Common word search."

"Threat assessment?" from Blade, glancing from one to the other of them.

"Huh." King thought a moment. "_Very_ high. In general, anyway. Gives off all the vibes of 'one dangerous babe', in spades. To us... ?" He opened his eyes, looked serious for a moment. "No way of telling." He shrugged. "My gut says 'No', but only if we handle it right. Probably make a very _bad_ enemy, and I don't like the smell of the organizations around her. Especially not the Wolfram and Hart association."

Blade looked inquiring. "Evil Law Firm. Rumor has it there's Bad Juju around them," King supplied.

Blade nodded, stared off into the distance for a long moment. History of the murder/torturer past clicked the girl's unguarded 'Hunting redemption' comment into place for him. "We'll see. No way to figure out anything more, really, until she wakes up." He picked up the assortment of ID, credit cards, and money and began carefully replacing it in Faith's wallet and coat pockets _exactly_ as it'd originally been.

"And we can talk to her," Abby added. "All of the stuff I dug up, news, surface crap from and on the IWC and NYCFGW, is in a file. You two can look it over later at leisure if you want - we covered all the important highlights here. Lots of data, damned scanty information, anyway. I agree with Hannibal: probably high threat, but no real reason to believe it's threat to us, unless we piss her off. Or her associates get too curious about us."

"So... " Hannibal shot Blade an overly wide-eyed look. "She followed you home. Can we keep her? Can we huh?"

Blade nodded. "I'll even change her litter box," he said, standing.

King's jaw dropped, and he looked goggle-eyed at Abigail. "Was that a joke?! _Blade_ just made a _joke_?!" He looked at Blade in horror. "Blade NEVER jokes!"

Abby snickered. "Of course not. He keeps you around for comedy relief so he doesn't have to."

"Ow. I'm wounded. Deeply. Even if it is true." He yawned, stretching. "That does it, I'm off to bed. It's past daylight, and life just got wayyy too surreal for me."

Blade stretched also, rolling his neck to the sounds of crackling noises. "I'm going to take a quick turn of various bars around the waterfront district, see if I can spot her bike. Got some energy to burn since I didn't get to kill much of anything."

King spun and pointed an imperious finger at him. "No more of that unseemly jocularity around here, young man. We won't have it. Won't. Have. It, I tell you."

Blade gave Abby one of those ghost half-smiles, and picked up the bike keys from the counter. "Later." His pack was starting to come along nicely, finally, he mused. Filling the surprisingly empty place that Whistler's death had left in him. Be interesting to find out where this 'Faith" fit in: enemy, or possible friend.


	3. Chapter 3: Mommy's little killer's

**Chapter 3: "**_**Mommy's little killer's all growed up now!"**_

_He was covered in slices of cheddar, and wearing a cheese hat like some demented and fanatical Wisconsin fan. Lifting a finger he wagged it sternly at her, "Wear the cheese." he intoned portentously: "Do NOT let the cheese wear you." She nodded, and replied, "Oh, what a Friend we have in Cheezits." Edged past him. Walking onward, she passed a clump of tiny, rock like demons with pickaxes clanking away. Her temples throbbed in time - or maybe sympathy - to the axe clinks._

_"Impressive isn't it?" Faith nodded, finding herself suddenly standing at the edge of a deep, circular, did I mention DEEP?, pit. Nine terraced levels, she noted. Parts of it near enough to see were filled with an enormous city looking like a cross between a humongous industrial nightmare mating with a bio-mechanical spider, and something out of Bosch. There were unpleasant movements at the corner of her eyes wherever she looked, but nothing stirred when looked at directly. Flames, and screams - mechanical and other - erupted periodically from various parts of the structure filling the pit. The angles were wrong: they hurt her eyes if she looked at them too long._

_"You have to stop them." Faith turned to the voice this time, unsurprised by the speaker._

_"Queen C." Faith smirked. "Got over your case of 'deliver-the-bitch-goddess' induced coma already?"_

_Cordelia grinned. "No. It killed me. But no one knows yet." Faith nodded. "You know that wasn't really me, back there, right?"_

_"I figured it out, finally. After Jasmine's TV debut."_

_Cordelia nodded, and jerked her chin towards the Pit. "You recognize it?"_

_Faith looked, thought upon it for a time. "Hellmouth to end all Hellmouths?" she ventured. "S'got that vibe to it."_

_"Got it in one, kiddo." Cordelia gave her a serious look. "You have to stop them. You have to stop it."_

_Eye roll "Why me? Why not deliver the message to Golden Girl, B? Why bring it to The Fuckup Slayer?"_

_"Buffy's out of the Apocalypse Loop for now. She did her Big Thing. She has others, but not yet."_

_Faith snorted. "Ah. Send in the backup team, then? How 'bout Willow? Kennedy? Slayers, Inc? There's more than one of them now, yanno. Or Angel and Crew? Getcher self a real Hero or three, not a screwup?"_

_Cordelia's turn for an eye roll "Self esteem probs, much?" She snickered. "Not that you don't have reason for them."_

_"Yeah. Right." Faith frowned. "Always knew you hated my guts, C." She gestured out at the smoking pit, under a blood orange sky. "Ok. How, then?"_

_Cordelia frowned, looked out at the sloping terraces, the skittering movements and flames. "Don't know. You'll have to find out." She looked at Faith, levelly. "You have to understand: I'm not really here, and I don't really know. I'm just channeling the message - they don't give me details. My spirit, my 'self' if you will, is just connected to the part of me that's in your memories. All I can do is tell you I know you can do it: you're more than you know. All the part that's the Messenger has is the data, but no understanding. Figuring it out's up to you."_

_"Heh. Sucks working for the Powers, don't it?" Faith crossed her arms, raised an eyebrow. "Feel like a mushroom, much?" She grinned._

_"Tell ME!" Cordelia grinned back._

_"So." Faith raised a hand, started counting off. "Someone or something's gonna open Hellmouthzilla. You don't know who, or can't say. You don't know how, or can't say, because they didn't tell you anything beyond the 'Where I went on my Summer Vacation to Hell' slide show You just know that Someone's gotta Stop It, somehow. And I'm it, kinda like The Power's Psychotic Pokemon. That about sums it up?"_

_"Got it Five-by-Five, Faith." Cordelia smirked. "I'm SO proud of you. Mommy's little killer's all growed up now and like, smart and everything!"_

_A harsh bark of laughter was startled out of Faith, almost against her will. "Gotta hand it to you, C - you've always had attitude, in spades. And style."_

_Cordelia smiled. "Damn right."_

_She turned back to the pit, "Oh well." She shrugged. "Wasn't doing anything better right now. And it's a good day to die."_

_Cordelia smacked her on the arm, frowning. "Rule Number One, Faith: Don't Die." She gave her a fierce look. "Don't you dare fucking die."_

_"ow!" Faith stepped back, startled. That hurt, dammit._

_"You __listen__ to me, dammit." Cordelia stepped nose to nose with the Slayer, glaring. "You are NOT the 'Fuckup Slayer', damn you. You are the fucking Chosen One. You will __not__ fucking die on me: I've lost too damned many people I care about already, and I'm going to lose more. You are __not__ going to be one of them. I will resurrect __both__ of us and beat the living __crap__ out of you if you do. You have everything you need to do this, everyone around you you need. Just draw on them, dammit. They're good people you've fallen in with. They can help you, if you let them in. Lose that damned 'I'm a screwup' shtick you're so fond of and grow out of it - it doesn't fit you so well any more. You didn't let Angel down, you didn't let Wesley down, and you didn't screw up in Sunnyhell when it counted last time. You're __not__ that beaten, terrified fifteen year old any more."_

_Faith stepped back again. Wow. "Damn. Let me guess: that's not a Power talking, that's the pure QueenC, huh?" She nodded._

_Cordelia met her eyes level, gaze smoking. "Damn straight, Faith." She grinned suddenly, "And you're wrong: I was a Power __before__ all this. You just never knew it."_

_"Guess you showed me, huh?" Faith gave her smoking look back, in spades. Pity they'd never had a meeting like this before Cordelia's coma. This was a side of the cheerleader she'd heard about, from Angel and Wes, but never knew. Someone she could have respected. And liked, a lot._

_"Someone had to." Cordelia sobered; grasped Faith by the shoulders in an almost bruising hard grip. "And you're wrong about other things. I don't hate you. Couldn't hate someone who did what you did for Angel. May not always like you a lot," she said, smiling, "but it's a shame we'll never have a chance to find out if we could."_

_She continued, locking Faith's gaze to hers. "You're not __anyone's__ 'backup Slayer', Faith. You're The Slayer now, have been since Kendra died. Many are Called; __You__ were Chosen. If anyone's the "backup', it's Buffy - and even that's not quite accurate."_

_Cordelia frowned, like she was struggling for expression. "Buffy's been through the fires already. You're still being forged. By the time you get quenched, you're going to be one hell of a person. One hell of a Champion." She winked, releasing Faith's shoulders. "And don't forget it."_

_Sunnydale's former QueenC looked at Faith then with something Faith didn't recognize Couldn't recognize_

_She was still puzzling at it as the dream scape faded around her, taking the former cheerleader with it, and she felt the waking world draw at her. She felt a very small voice in the back of her mind whisper:_

_"oh. So __that's__ what respect looks like. I didn't know... "_

_"Never been quenched before. Sounds kinky..."_ were the first words out of Faith's mouth when she awoke. She frowned, eyes still closed, wondering where _that_ came from. Then she remembered and sat bolt upright as the Slayer dream flooded back into her head; full technihorrors and all. Ow. Mistake. BAD mistake. Ow, ow.

Imps with white hot jackhammers tunneling out through her temples? Check. Raging thirst? Check. Mouth like the bottom of a used ashtray? Check. Intense allergy to bright light? Check and double check She fell back onto the bed, eyes squeezed shut again. 'Nother Bad Mistake. Impact with pillow causes intense pain? Check. Ow ow.

"Ow ow? That would be 'Excedrin Headache Number 123: Massive Amounts of Alcohol Poisoning', I'd bet." Too loud whisper of fabric as the owner of the unrecognized - female - voice came into the room. Too intense smell of leather and steel. Damned slayer senses. Faith tensed imperceptibly, ready for fight/flight. And hoping like hell there wouldn't be any abrupt movements involved here. She suspected anything more than blinking would split her head open.

"Coffee?" the voice asked.

"Oh gods, you're a saint." Faith cracked one eye open, very carefully. So far so good. She managed to get raised up on one elbow to accept the proffered - and heavenly smelling - cup of coffee without too much agony. A far-too-hot gulp later, she felt world's better. Enough to suspect that living might be an option. She cracked open the other eye as The Coffee Goddess gave a soft laugh.

"No saint. Just someone who's survived a few hangovers myself, in the past."

Faith glanced around. Small room, cracking concrete walls and louvered steel shutters over the window. Door at one end looked like it led to a bathroom. Door Coffee Goddess came in through looked like it led to a hallway. Mid/late evening sun through the window, far too much slayer survival experience at gauging 'how far to dark/light?' telling her. She finished the coffee more slowly than her first scalding gulps, looking the Coffee Bringer over. Medium small girl-woman, maybe a bit taller than herself. Wavy brown hair. Hard muscle under the softness. Wearing a leather bodice top, tight khaki cargo pants bottoms. Not exactly beautiful, but pretty. 'Striking' was a word that suggested itself: Faith got the impression that if the girl were to focus the immense strength of personalty she was sensing on you, you'd decide that she was very beautiful indeed... Scars... a fighter, this one. A Warrior, like herself. Most importantly: smiling and carrying a tray with a coffee carafe, small iced water pitcher, a small glass of brown liquid, and a bottle of aspirin and Tylenol

"More?" Faith nodded carefully, small movement, and held her mug out to be topped off. "After that, you'd better have some water, and a couple of painkillers. You're probably dehydrated as hell."

"Definitely, oh Goddess of the Caffeine." That won a grin from the girl, she dimpled.

"Where am I?" Might as well fish for data, start trying to piece together where she ended up. She vaguely remembered far too much booze, multiple bars, a fight... burning vamps?

"Our place." Faith's raised eyebrow and unspoken 'Tells me exactly nuthin' won her another dimple and a, "Salvage yard, living quarters, workshops, several miles in from the waterfront. Depths of New Jersey."

"Oh gods, I'm in Hell!"

"No, just New Jersey. Hell's farther south."

"I'm in Hell with a hangover and a wise ass," Faith snorted and shot her a glower. "I think I'll try some of that water next."

She nodded and poured her a glass, handed it to her with a couple of Tylenol as Faith sat up, groaning. After Faith drained the water, she handed her the small brown glass. "Try this. It'll help, LOTS."

At Faith's raised eyebrow, she said "Dad's hangover recipe. You don't want to know what's in it, it tastes like toad piss, but you'll feel tons better about five minutes after it hits bottom. Old Family cure."

"For Old Families, gotcha." Faith gave the glass a suspicious look, and even more suspicious sniff. Smelled like what she'd imagine toad's piss smelled like, too.

At Faith's continued dubious expression, she snorted: "If we were planning to kill you, we could have just dumped you in the pool and let you learn to breath water while you were passed out."

Faith tossed it off, ignoring the taste. No worse than some potions she'd been fed by Willow or Wes. Burned all the way down, then settled and spread warmth through her entire body. A few minutes later, she brightened. "Whoa - damn, girl. You should sell that stuff!"

Another grin. "Ingredients list'd never make it past the FDA."

"Faith." She stuck her hand out. "And I can't call you 'Coffee Goddess', no matter it'd be appropriate?"

"Whistler." The return grip was strong, but not trying to prove anything. "Friends call me 'Abby'."

"Cool." She nodded, enjoying the lack-of-searing-pain in the movement. "Number of minor questions, none of them Deal Breakers just yet." She ticked them off on her fingers: "Who undressed me? Where's my stuff? How'd I get here? And where can I pee?"

Smile. "That would be: Me; in there; Blade brought you; that way," she pointed to the door Faith'd already figured held a bathroom. "And if you want to take a shower while you're in there, I'll bring your clothes. Don't think my spares will fit you, so you'll have to make do with what you had on?"

"Cool." Faith bounced up, grinned, and headed for the bath-and-shower. Interesting, doubly so with C's "_They're good people you've fallen in with" recommendation_ echoing in her mind. Triply so with the resonance of the slayer-buzz she'd felt from the girl. Wonder if she knew? Way she moved, and those scars, she was obviously trained - Faith doubted she really needed a trip through the Slayer-school Mill.

She did make a mental note to not wander off blind drunk and stupid again, no matter that it seemed to land her in the most interesting places. next time, it might make for a good way to get dead, and she had it on Good Authority that that just wasn't allowed.

**...**

She followed the sound of voices, and the smell of food after her shower. Eventually leading her to a large, open room cluttered with work tables, shelving, books, junk, weapons, computers, and odds and ends of electronics that her experiences with messy geeks suggested wasn't nearly as haphazardly laid out as they looked. A place she could get to feel at home in, if she let herself, she thought.

Spotting her weapons on a counter, she headed for that not paying any _obvious_ attention to the people in the room. Hyper aware of them nonetheless, and curious to see their reactions to her immediately heading to get armed and fully "dressed". She relaxed when they only followed her with curious gazes as she checked over the swords and blades, and strapped them on... until she paused scooping up her bike keys with a stricken feeling.

"Shit! Fuck!" She shook her head. "Dammit to hell..."

"What?" That would be the slim, intense white guy-with-a-beard, interesting concern in his voice.

"My bike, dammit." She turned to face the group, slumping against the counter. "I have NO damned idea where I left it. Shit!"

"S'all right. Relax." That was the big guy. Intense and very Black, but not working at it. She gave him a stricken look, hopeful and hating the feeling of looking to a not-met-yet-stranger for any kind of reassurance. "It's in the yard. Found it this afternoon in a bar lot. Brought it back."

"Oh hell." She damped down the flood of relief, not wanting it to show. QueenC or no dream-talk, she didn't like showing weakness to people, much less strangers, and her feelings for that bike were a weakness. "Thanks."

Raised eyebrow from the slender guy. "Special bike?"

"Yah. Gift from a friend." Damned near _only_ friend, she added in her mind. Gave him the Faith Grin, patented insouciance, 'every thing's five-by-five' to cover the momentary lapse. "Was afraid I might have wrecked it while drunk, or had it stolen."

She looked them over while he digested that, not minding getting a _very_ professional return look over back from the three. Not your typical 'two guys and a gal checking out a good looking tough chick' appraisal, although there was some of that from the slim guy. A predator's appraisal, all three: a casual, thorough _'dangerous, but just how dangerous and can I take her?'_ once-over mixed with a strong dose of _'is she a danger to my pack?'_ from the big black guy. She swallowed a smile, damned tempted to look him dead in the eyes and respond out loud with _'No. But I could bring danger to them. And probably am.'_ Figured he read that off of her anyway, and determined it on his own. No fool there. He nodded once, as if responding to the not-spoken. Spooky.

The girl, Abby, handed her a plate piled high with eggs and bacon with an inquiring look. "Food?"

"Oh, definitely - thanks." Faith found a seat and an empty counter spot and started shoveling it in while continuing her inspection. None of them seemed inclined to interrupt either activity with conversation at the moment. "S'good. Damn."

Slim guy - damn, she'd have to put names to these people sooner or later - ducked a grin and raised an eyebrow at the rate she was putting it away. "She eats like you, Ab - gulps it by the bucket load." Abby looked daggers at him. "She sticks around, we'll have to install two troughs." Abby threw something at him, hard.

Ko. Slender guy. Intense, lots of restrained energy. Easy grin. Trim beard. Probably a smartass: had that feel to him, and that glint in the eyes with the easy laugh lines. Reminded her of Xander, in a way. Hardass, too - nothing soft about him. He had that look about him too, like Xan... used to going up against faster and tougher things, used to getting hurt and not quitting. Ever. Had that feel to him, in the way his body unconsciously related to Abby and the other guy: they were his family, and anything that wanted to get to them, had to go through him, and usually did. At a cost. And never you mind that neither of them _needed_ protection. Felt like a vamp to her slayer sense, but not. Something else. Definitely a soul behind those eyes, too, so _not_ undead. Definitely bedable, if you liked them slim, wiry, and slightly manic.

The big guy. At a guess, this would be the 'Blade that brought you' Abby'd mentioned. Dark, short hair flat on top, odd tatoos on neck. Very muscled, moved like a huge panther: just damned _radiated_ 'controlled violence' in a way that screamed 'Big Bad. Do NOT fuck with' to her slayer-honed predator detection senses. B were here, she'd be vibrating in place trying to decide whether she should fuck him or kill him. Or kill him, have him turned, then fuck him, Faith grinned around a mouthful of food at the mental image. She had a clear memory, one of the few from last night, of looking up at three of him thinking 'Damn! Schweet!' and doing wolf-whistles in her head. Definitely the alpha, here. Definitely considered the others family-and-pack, and under his protection. Also registered as 'like-vampire-but-not-something-_other_' to her slayer senses. Taciturn Focused. Reminded her of Oz in a way: had that whole 'Make the most of few words' and very centered Zen thing going.

She'd already checked out the girl. Young _woman_ - have to break the 'girl' thought pattern, Abby was probably as old as she was, or a bit older. Early 20's. But she felt younger than Faith, in a way Faith hadn't in years, if ever. Slayer... and the way she moved, obviously combat experienced _before_ Willow's screwing with the Scythe had Called her along with all the other potentials, permanently fucking up their lives sans consent or a by-yer-leave. Sure, it'd saved all their asses, and there hadn't been any better options floating around for going after the First, Caleb, and an army of Turok-han... so the bitter snark was probably not completely justified. Still: rather a rude awakening to a lot of girls who suddenly found themselves super-powered with no idea what was happening. And it'd already killed several of them, they hadn't gotten to in time, would kill several more yet, who probably never knew why they were on some monster's hit list...

Although, given that she was running with these two killers, Abby probably wouldn't begrudge the extra boost.

All three of them were fighters. Trained fighters, they had that look. More... a unit: they had that 'Divide the Universe into three parts, the part each of us watches' way of relating to each other with their bodies, and with the way they seldom met each others eyes that comes from living, working, and damned near dying beside each other. B's scoobies had had that, after years, although they'd lost more than a bit of it there at the end, after too much pain and too much stress had ground the trust off of them.

She wondered how the hell she was going to manage to break it to them that according to the Powers-that-do-Jack-Shit-While-Fucking-Up-People's-Lives, they were probably supposed to help her stave off something major and apocalyptic. Without getting killed explaining it to them. She wasn't looking forward to getting resurrected so C could beat hell out of her. The woman she'd met in the dream ways could probably pull it off, just on sheer force of will.

The air of wary not-quite-but-almost friendliness and cautious, curiosity laced acceptance she was picking up from them to her felt too damned good for her to want to break it just now. And she didn't even want to think through the implications of that.

She finally finished, both the first plate, and the next Abby'd handed her without being asked, and sat back, stifling a belch. Clean, unhungover, stuffed to slayer repletion... if it hadn't been for the hollow pain Robin'd left in her gut, life would almost be Good at this point. Was good, dammit. Fuck Robin.

"Faith." She nodded to her companions, crossing her arms.

The slender guy grinned. Tapped himself on the chest. "Hannibal King. Lover, fighter, smartass extraordinairre." Faith snickered. "You met Abby, I gather. Tall, dark, and taciturn over there - "

"Is Blade," the big guy nodded, shooting an extremely ineffective quelling glare at King.

"Cool." She continued enjoying the feeling of food digesting and decided to wait, let them carry the conversation for a bit. She was pretty sure they'd have a lot of questions by now. Also pretty sure that Blade would cheerfully sit and stare at her coolly until hell froze over, or until Hannibal exploded from curiosity, whichever came first. _And_ give one of those almost-not-there-invisible-half-smiles she'd caught a few times already, when Hannibal did explode from frustration.

Powers sent Slayer Dreams, impending apocalypses, or no - _she_ damned sure wasn't in any real hurry. Not like she had any place better to go, any more.

**...**

"So... get blasted and hunt leeches often?"

Bingo. Faith wished she'd made bets. King'd lasted all of ten minutes of semi-companionable silence, amazingly, before vibrating out of his chair to pace a few times before whirling and fixing her with a manic grin and firing off the first question. She swallowed a grin, and stared through him.

"No. And yes." And waited for the incredulous look from him and the faint not-smile from Blade when he figured out she wasn't going to volunteer more.

"Okaayyy... " King shot her a glare. "So, you don't get wasted drunk often, and you do hunt leeches often, which means you don't usually do both and stumble into someone else's hunt."

"Wasn't really hunting. Just happened to run across them. Seemed like the thing to do at the time."

That got a grin and a rueful look from him. She'd bet money he'd responded to any number of 'Are you fucking insane?!' questions in his life with a casual shrug and a 'Seemed like a good idea at the moment?' quip Didn't stop him from shooting back a growling "Damned idiot way to get dead fast."

"Hey - if it looks stupid and it _works_, it ain't stupid." She smirked at him. Not about to admit to him that he'd just summed up her own thoughts at the time. She cocked her head. "'Leeches'? Actual name for that type of demon, or smartass descrip?"

And that stopped him, mouth working silently for a second. "Demons? Vampires."

King was almost expecting the incredulous "Vampires? _Get_ the fuck out.", in spite of Blade's assertion she'd known what she was doing, but the casual "Vamps puff into dust when they're dead - they don't poof into flaming sparklies and burn. I know vampires, killed _hundreds_ of them. Demons." left him gaping.

He closed his mouth with a click, and turned to Blade with a hands out 'You tell her' air, only to stop at the raised eyebrow and rather unsurprised non-expression on Blade's face. "Blade?"

Blade gave her a curious look. "Why don't you describe 'Vampire' as you know them. Pretend we have no idea what you're talking about."

"No such thing as demons." Blade shot King a quelling look, again, and Hannibal threw his hands up, sat down with his arms folded and an offended pout. "Fine."

Faith grinned. "Cool. I get to give 'The Speech'. That doesn't happen often enough." She met Blade's eyes with a serious look, ignoring King for the moment.

"Vampires. Ok... Evil, evil, Undead oh. The earth is older than we know, and long long ago, the Old Ones walked and ruled it. Elder Gods. It was a place of demons and gods, long before humans. Time of Demons passed, and they all eventually faded from Earth: Old Ones to hidden places like the Deeper Wells, or beyond the stars, and Demons to the various Hell dimensions, leaving the world to humans. Legend that's NOT legend has it that one of the last true demons to pass brought a human near to dying, and just before he passed mingled his blood and essence with the dying human and the First Vampire came to be. As he died, his soul moved on to wherever those things go, and the demon's essence replaced it and animated and preserved his corpse, and leaving it with a thirst for blood and destruction."

She ignored King's snort as she took a swallow of coffee and continued. Abby looked fascinated. Blade had his poker-face on, and she could pick up no sense of his reactions. "And he bit another and embraced it, and they bit two friends, and they bit two friends, and so on, and so on, and so on. Vampires became a scourge upon the Earth, preying on humans wherever they found them, and creating more of their kind." She knew she was varying from the standard version, but didn't care: the differences came from Slayer dreams, and resonated true within her.

She shrugged. "That's pretty much it, unless you want the full Mystical History of the World, Part I. A Vampire is an undead corpse animated by a demon, with a thirst for blood, that _likes_ killing and torture. Enjoys it. Majority of them are Minions, unless the siring vampire decides to create a Childer, and gives them a bit extra essence. Truly old vampires become more and more powerful as they age, and less and less human, eventually becoming Masters. Vampires have the memories and skills of the human they were sired from, but it's only software: there's no Soul there. They're merciless monsters, with a very few exceptions. Vamps in game face look demonic: ridged brows, glowing yellow eyes, fangs. The demon comes to the surface when they're aroused, pissed, or in blood lust.. otherwise they look human. Room temp bodies: they don't show on thermal or infrared."

Snort. "Horseshit." King met her narrow eyed glare with his own, not backing down. "Not bloody-freaking-undead. I know: I used to be one. I was cured." He smirked, then it faded when instead of an incredulous look, it got him a thoughtful appraisal.

Blade gave him that raised eyebrow look. "King. Define 'Vampire' as you understand the term, for our guest."

Hannibal shot him a look that said 'What, am I a professor of Remedial Vampire Lore now?' as plain as if he'd said it, but shrugged and opened his mouth. Shut it again with a smoky glare as Faith settled into her seat with her hands clasped in front of her like a prim high school girl and gave him an innocent doe eyed look, obviously ready to hang on his every word. "All right, smart ass." She smirked, then went back to doe-eyed-and-attentive.

He rolled his eyes but launched in. Abby gave both of them a look that was equal parts of fascination and alarm at someone who could obviously drive King nuts with his own childish smartass routine, and better him at it.

"O.K. Vampires, or Homo Nocturnalis as We Professionals like to call them," he studiously ignored Faith's mock-impressed 'ooohh...' and eyelash flutter, "are created by a rare and extremely ancient retro-virus. Original source, as we discovered recently, was a non-human being known as 'Dagon', aka 'Drake' aka 'Dracul' who created the first True Blood vampires." He also studiously ignored Faith's nod and knowing 'Old One, check' look, with a 'Pipe down, you' glare. Faith immediately settled back into her attentive student pose, but stuck her tongue out at him when he glared at Blade.

"Ok... I might grant you the 'Demon' thing in Dagon's case. He turned out to be this hideous shape shifting ancient monstrosity when we encountered and killed him." Faith looked suitably impressed. "But his children weren't. They bred with each other and created more vampires. Those as ages went by, learned they could create lesser vampires by draining a human near to death, and then forcing their own blood into them." He frowned, struck against his will by the similarities between the two explanations. "NOT 'undead' though. Although I guess it'd be an easy enough mistake... vampires and vampirlings have low body heat, very slow heartbeats, and they can go into hibernation for decades in a kind of near-deathlike state if there's not enough prey/food around. They can also breed with humans, rarely, creating half vampires, or 'dhampir': crossbreeds with close to vampiric strength and regeneration, and most of the weaknesses of vampires. Half-vampires are also created when a living, healthy human is given enough vampire blood to drink, or via a transfusion, that it partly changes them. A much smaller infusion is used to create thralls, 'Familiars' from humans, or minions: human servants bound to the vampire that thralled them who do the vampires work in the daytime, and in society." He made a face. "There's an entire damned Vampire Nation out there, mostly centered in Europe, thank gods... mingled with and partly controlling human society through minions." _That_ did get a fascinated, and thoughtful, eyebrow raise from Faith.

He smirked, finishing with "Sired vampires can be cured though, unlike an 'animated corpse', although it's not easy, and it's usually not worth the trouble: most vampires sire vampirlings from people who're as nasty and evil as they are, and who're naturals to the 'bloodsucking near-immortal predator' thing. Or who're vamp groupies." He grimaced. "I was one of the not-willing, non-groupies when I was sired, and after I was brought back, became a hunter. _Hate_ those sucking bastards."

Blade nodded. "And how do you kill them?"

King shrugged. "Sunlight, although it's hard to get them to hold still for it, but there's tricks for that. Decapitation, but you have to be good. And strong." He paused for a moment, obviously remembering that according to Blade, he was giving Vamp 101 to someone who was good enough, and strong enough to decapitate vampires. Dead drunk, yet. "Silver: blade, stake, or bullets. Fire. Garlic: allergic to it, but doesn't kill; mostly just makes them smell funny. When they croak, they burst into flaming ash."

Blade looked at Faith, who'd traded the 'annoy King' act for a thoughtful expression somewhere along the way. "Your turn: how do you kill a vampire?"

She shrugged. "Wooden stake or wooden blade, has to be through the heart. Also has to be wood: fake wood won't do. 'Theory' says it's because of the connection to once living wood and earth magic, but I just know it works. Decapitation. Sunlight. Fire: they make great torches, if a bit fast burning." She snickered at that. "Silver doesn't bother them, unless it's a blade used to decapitate them. A lot of them LIKE garlic. Holy water, crosses, holy symbols burn them, but don't kill, unless you can stick a cross up their ass. Claws and teeth of other supernatural beings. Bullets just piss them off. And they turn into dust when they're killed, along with everything on them."

She ticked off a few items on her fingers: "Unless they knew magic before turning, they can't turn into bats or wolves. They don't need their native soil or a coffin to sleep in, that's just movie crap, although a lot of them like sleeping in crypts. Running water doesn't bother them. Most of the one's I've known hate flying, but that's because it's so hard for them to know for sure it's going to be dark when they land, and plane windows: the whole 'bursting into flames' allergy. Only Masters and ancient and powerful vampires can enthrall people. They live forever unless killed, gradually reverting closer and closer to the demonic essence in them. Can't be 'cured', no cure for undeath, except with _extremely_ rare and powerful magics. Drugs don't affect them, or at least non-magical drugs don't."

King shook his head, saying, "Ok, I can see the similarities, and how the thing could have mutated into the whole 'Undead' myth, but... "

Blade looked at him. "No."

King glared back. "What?! Going to tell me she's right, when we both know different? When I'm living proof otherwise?"

Blade shrugged. "You're both wrong. And both Right." He gave one of those near invisible smiles. "Just not complete."


	4. Chapter 4: Mystical History of the World

**Chapter 4: **_**'Full Mystical History of the World, Part II'**_

Faith wasn't sure what she'd expected to run into when she'd smashed Wood and rode out in a blaze of rage and hurt, but whatever it was, this 'get drunk and get swept up by a group of rogue vampire killers then get a surreal slayer vision' thing here definitely wasn't it. Beat the hell out of anything she would have planned for on her own, though. Hell for entertaining so far. And lots of sweet eye candy around to watch while she figured things out.

Speaking of, she was enjoying watching Blade as he paused, realizing he'd worked his way into something that was going to require a lot of talking to work out of, and he was almost visibly and painfully uncomfortable about it. Kinda like an embarrassed Giles, only expressionless. She grinned, internally. She was going to have to sit on both hands, or maybe chew them off at the wrists, if he picked up his sunglasses and started polishing them. The temptation to take them away to keep from having a Sunnyhell flashback would be overwhelming.

He almost defined 'taciturn', in the short time she'd seen him. She had the feeling he was more the 'Say little, kill lots, break things' type, rather than the Watcher/Lecturer type. She could relate... although, she'd found herself getting uncomfortably motormouth the more she was around people she felt comfortable with.

Tough. If he was going to explain that "not complete" statement before Hannibal had an embolism, he was probably going to have to resort to like, complete sentences And words and shit. She grinned. Would probably prove as fun to watch as Willow in full-on babble-mode.

Damn. She also hadn't expected to be enjoying herself by this point today, rather than homicidally depressed over Wood and the wreck she'd left at the Slayer School. Not complaining. Just weird feeling.

Blade finished looking off past the wall and nodded once, decisively. And looked at her, in that intense 'I can see into your soul' kinda way. Whatever internal debates he'd been engaged in, he'd settled it.

"Figure before we get into all that, ought to cover a couple of things, first." He propped his elbows on the chair arms and settled low in the armchair, steepled his fingers in front of his face, and looked at her over the steeple-point. She leaned back, elbows on the counter behind her, open, and regarded him back. Unafraid and nervous as hell, and she caught the tiny half-smile as he registered both.

"Shoot." His eyebrow almost quirked and he nodded microscopically. Damn. She could enjoy spending her life cataloging the list of almost expressions that dude had, and where the hell did that thought come from, anyway? Stupid brain.

"Don't want anything out of you, aren't interested in killing you, this isn't a kidnapping." She nodded. "Way I see it, we have similar interests, and hunt similar things. Probably have similar kinds of enemies?"

"Most likely." Faith cocked her head microscopically and ghosted an inquiring look. She could do 'expressionless and not givin' up nuthin'' herself, when she wanted. Abby had that fascinated look again, watching them. King had gone completely unreadable, and wasn't that interesting? Too easy to forget that that manic fully open guileless-wise ass act was just that, an act, and a cover for a very sharp and dangerous man lurking behind it.

"Wether you stick around a bit, or not... " He paused, "Kind of like to know that we're not going to have to pack up and leave sudden like, a jump ahead of something you called down on us." The 'you _will_ not hurt my family and live' thing didn't _have_ to be stated, it was just a part of him, like skin.

She paused a long bit, considering. Not the question, that was a no-brainer, but the sudden hunger that shot through her at the 'stick around for a bit', like he'd considered it, and decided he - they - wouldn't mind. No, dammit. She wasn't that starved fifteen year old anymore, lunging like a rabid shark at any tiny scrap of acceptance and 'place' offered. No matter that she kind of liked what she was seeing here, even on a short glance.

"No." She gave him a level look. "Not from me. Not ever." She watched him weigh that, accept it. "My associates will look for me though. Maybe even my one or two actual friends. I'll have to deal with that - that could be a problem."

That got a barely perceptible shrug, kind of an 'of course your friends will look for you, and want to know what you fell in with', as if in his universe, that went without saying: like the sun coming up. In his universe, maybe it did. Faith couldn't say: this whole 'friends' and 'people who gave a shit' thing was kind of new to her, and not real comfortable. Too many hidden traps, and too many new ways to hurt.

"I figured." Faith's turn to quirk the corner of her mouth up in a barely perceptible smile. Of course they'd gone through her ID's, run checks, and looked into her. She would have, positions reversed. These people weren't stupid, or amateurs. Way they'd been reacting to her since she woke up said that whatever they'd dug up didn't bother them... and that said volumes about things she hadn't time to think through. "Can you deal with them?"

Faith shrugged. "Yeah. Think so. Can't - I leave. My family issues don't become your problems."

"Good enough." He nodded.

"Curious, though." She watched him look inquiring while not looking inquiring, trying to figure out how he did it. "Why'd you bring me here? Had to know it'd be a possible threat to," she made a comprehensive motion, "this. Why not pass me by, or dump me somewhere safe-and-elsewhere to wake up?" She could see from the curious looks that both Abby and King had wondered that. Could imagine there'd been some... discussion.

Shrug. "Couldn't leave you for leech bait. Or for some of Jersey's 'finest' to scoop up."

Raised eyebrow back at him. "I would have."

"No. You wouldn't." And she wondered how the hell he knew _that_ about her, anyway? Because she wouldn't have, wouldn't have left a dead drunk stranger who'd wandered into the middle of one of her hunts to their own non-existent devices. And she hadn't realized that until just now, either. WTF was happening to her lately? Long pause... "And I was curious."

snicker "That I believe, B-man."

"Question for you, now." He had that intense thing going again. "Why do you register on my instincts the way you do? Could feel you halfway down the block when you wandered up."

Heh. And that was the curiosity nut, right there: he got intrigued by whatever it was that set off his version of a 'Slayer Sense'. She gave him the Faith grin. "Deal: I'll show you mine, if you show me yours. Why do you set off my 'Big Bad' radar sense and all my alarm buttons?" Watched him consider that carefully, nod.

"Dhampir." He waited, watching her, probably curious to see if the one-word answer was enough.

"Vampire human crossbreed, like Hannibal mentioned?"

He nodded. "They call me 'The Daywalker'. I scare them."

"Living?" Stupid question: slayer ears could hear his heartbeat and the blood flowing in his veins from this close, if she concentrated, feel the body warmth radiating off of him. Another nod. "Stronger than King though. He registers as a vamp, but faintly. You're off the scale." She almost snickered watching Hannibal swallow that without exploding into a half-dozen acerbic remarks.

"My turn?" Faith cocked her thumb at her chest. "Slayer. _The_ Slayer, or one of them, depending on how you look at it."

Long pause, nodded, like he'd expected it, just wanted it confirmed. What the fuck had she blurted out when she was squaring off to those vamps-not-vamps last night? She'd of bet he was listening, watching.

"Thought the Slayer was a small, blonde girl on the West Coast?" He asked.

"That was before me. And after." She nodded. "Long story."

He narrowed his eyes slightly, "Are you evil?"

THAT got her, cracked her up completely. She flat couldn't help the wild crazy laughter that exploded out of her. Couldn't stop, either - every time she tried to meet his oh-so-serious look, it set her off again, tears running down her face. One of the good laughs, from something humorous rather than snarky, like she'd forgotten about. She waved a hand at them, King and Abby both looking at her like she'd gone flat-barking-insane like they'd been expecting. Only not in the way they'd expected. Saw Blade looking like he was trying to decide between offended, amused, or annoyed and broke up again.

"Sorry!" She gasped. "sorry... jeeze. Man: you just startled me." Finally got herself under some kind of control, still giggling. "Serious look, 'Are You Evil?' question, reminded me suddenly of a friend-not-friend's Trademark Question. And you don't look a damn thing like her." She lost it again, finally managing to stop. "Man!"

"Friend?" Blade looked like he'd finally settled on 'bemused'. Other two were still trading 'WTF?' looks, quietly.

"Friend. Sister. Not sister. Best Enemy." Faith grinned. "She always saw things in that black & white, 'Evil/Good', 'Soul/Not-Soul' way, like it made a damn' bit of difference. Like there wasn't a thousand shades of both. Snarky bitch." She sputtered again, wrestled it down. "When you hit me with that, suddenly saw you as tiny, blonde, huge green eyes going 'But but but... Are you EVIL?!' in a high pitched California whine and lost it." She snickered. "You just don't know how _off_ you look as a tiny blonde. Sorry."

King shook his head, rolled his eyes. And gave Blade a behind the back look that clearly said that that 'But but but... Are you EVIL?!' crack in Faith's imitation of Buffy's voice was going to come back to haunt Blade some day. "So. What's a 'Slayer'" he asked, bringing them back to the topic at hand.

Faith gave him a mock glower. "I'd say that I thought this Trade was between me and Blade-man here, but you already showed me yours. So..." She cocked an eyebrow. "Guess that brings us to 'Full Mystical History of the World, Part II' then?" Nod from King.

"Wicked." She drew herself up in a mock imitation of Wesley in Lecture Mode. "There's people who do this better than I do, but... Going back to the 'earth is older than we know' thing where we left off, after the Old Ones left or died off, vampires and demons overran the world, making it a hunting ground. Werewolves. Trolls. Evil Faerie. Pre-history: what we call history wasn't invented yet. Constant warfare, and humans weren't getting the best of it. We had magic, but they had fangs and teeth and things that go bump in the night. Vampires considered humans cattle, and hunted them like mobile Happy Meals. So did demonkind. Things like your Dagon. Or treated them like things to experiment on. Silly putty with legs. We were losing, slowly. Life was nasty, brutish, and _short_."

She paused for a sip of coffee. "So a bunch of old Shamans decided to get together and do something to even up the odds. And what they did Sucked, but I suppose it was all they had: They took a young girl and chained her up, did Big Mojo, and somehow conjured up the essence of something that hated demonkind and hunted them, and infused the girl with that essence and bound it into her. And the First Slayer was made...

"One girl in All the World with the power to hunt and kill demonkind. Faster, stronger, tougher, betterer. Quicker healing. Able to leap tall buil- oh wait, that's Supergirl. Never mind." She grinned, wondering if it really was possible to give King apoplexy with snark. "She died. And the Slayer Essence moved on... somehow, the magics they'd used identified girls with the Potential to become Slayers in turn, and when one was killed, the next was Chosen. Slowly but surely, the Slayers and the handful of other hunters and Champions," she waved her hand inclusively at the three of them, "that came up through the ages managed to beat back the tide of demons and other mystical predators, until they left this world through portals into various hell dimensions. Mostly. Some stayed, and so did the Slayer, still hunting. Still dying."

"The original Shamans became Watchers: dedicated to using their magics and hidden knowledge to assist the Slayer in her hunts... although that changed after a time." Faiths voice couldn't help the bitterness on 'changed', no matter that she tried to keep it light and Mock Wesley, "Centuries passed, and there's always been a Slayer. Most of them live short lives and die young. You very seldom leave a handsome corpse fighting demons. Always young girls between the ages of 13 and 15 or so. Always One. The Slayer Essence isn't sentient, not really, but it's there: like another side of you. It comes with enormous strength, speed, incredible resistance to damage, inhuman healing, and heightened senses. You gain instinctive knowledge of weapons, fighting. You can master any combat art with only a little training or from watching it done. It can drive you insane... you become Predator, _Killer_. You live for the hunt, the fight. And the kill. It can take over, if you let it."

Hannibal was definitely going to explode if he kept his mouth shut much longer. Abby, too. Faith glanced around, saw a thick bar of stainless steel on the nearby workbench with a narrow hole: bull barrel for one of the rifles, some inch or so thick and 30" long. She picked it up and casually bent it into an upside down U with a flex of her biceps. Tossed it to him and left him gaping suddenly.

"Don't care if you believe it, Hannibal. It exists. Don't care if the idea of Demons offends you, _Vampire_ Hunter. Fucking deal with it."

She stood, hands on her hips, locked his eyes in a calm, level gaze. "I am The Slayer. I am the Thing the Darkness _fears_. I was Chosen at fifteen from a feral street kid. I watched my first watcher tortured and killed in a way they don't have _words_ for. I've fought Gods, and helped kill them. I've been fighting since I was Called, watched friends die, been swallowed up by the darkness, _become_ the damned Slayer Essence - and walked out the other side of that hell at least semi-sane. I am a champion. I've known _bigger_ champions. And you Will. _Not_. Fucking. Sneer. at me, boy."

She locked his eyes until his gaze broke, and he stepped back, just a hair, from the power radiating out of her: full Slayer essence at the fore until she choked it down and locked it away. _'You ain't the only one who's got The Attitude, C. And I'm sorry too that we'll never get to know each other.'_

She shrugged and focused on Blade. Who was Not Impressed, damn him. But curious as hell - he radiated it. "Slayer. The full package. Prophetic dreams, ability to sense 'other', dreams of past Slayers fighting, dying, an endless chain of them." She felt Abigail start at that, felt Blade notice it too.

He crossed his arms over his chest, settled deeper into the chair with a sleepy look, every controlled movement radiating power, Capital P. No wonder he wasn't impressed. "You said 'or one of them', earlier?"

King smirked. Recovered fast: not one to stay intimidated for long. Or speechless. She could like that about him, oh yeah. "Yeah. One Girl in All the World. So how can you be 'one of'?"

"The previous Slayer died, don't know who she was. California Blonde was Called, Chosen - the 'But but but... Are you EVIL?!' asker." Faith grinned. "She went through a world of shit, ended up in Sunnydale as guardian of the Mouth of Hell." She saw the 'Sunnydale' register on Hannibal and Abby - oh yeah, they'd done checking. "Boca del Infierno. The Hellmouth, or one of them. Went after a Master Vampire, was bitten and left to drown, resurrected by CPR. Died just long enough, though, and Kendra was Chosen. The Slayer Line passed to her. Kendra died at the hands of a Master named Drusilla. And then came me... " She had her eyes closed, voice soft, too many memories of old pain tied to that story. "Me. The wild child, the feral Psycho Slayer. The fuckup Slayer. The Chosen One of the Chosen _Two_ now."

She smiled, something twisted that didn't reach her eyes, looking at Blade. Not flinching from the calm regard there. "I got better."

"Blondie died, I went to prison, she was resurrected by Big Magic. Black magic. Her friends thought that she'd ended up in some Hell when she died, had reason, brought her back kicking and screaming. Ripped her out... and opened the way for something Nasty to come in with her." She heard Abby whisper 'Glorificus' so soft only Slayer hearing could probably pick it up. Oh yeah... she had the dreams too. Definitely Slayer. "I broke out, because a friend needed me... went back to Sunnyhell to help with Big Nasty. Things got ugly."

"To try and deal with it, one of us, the one who'd done the big resurrection thing on Blondie, did a mojo that Called all the Potentials. Made them Chosen, not Called. All at once. Had to. We were fighting, losing. Dying. The First's right hand was stalking and killing the Potentials to destroy the Slayer line completely.

"We won, kinda. Closed the Mouth of Hell. Created Lake Sunnyhell." Faith shrugged. "And now instead of one girl in all the world, there's Many. We're finding new ones all the time... not as many in the US - Caleb killed most of them - but all over."

Blade nodded. Definitely a story there. Stories. Definitely answered questions for him, and Faith had a pretty good idea which question.

"You asked me if I was evil, Blade." Her voice was bitter, smile twisted. "I can't answer that. I don't know the answer. I've killed, tortured, wrecked the lives of people around me. And tried to make up for it and fucked up again." She met his eyes evenly. "All I can tell you is... I'm the thing that hunts monsters. And I don't hurt people any more. Only myself."

She was watching him, watching them try to fit all the pieces together, and waiting to see where this goes, when her cell phone went off. Giles' number on the ID when she dug it out.

"Fuck me."

**...**

She thought about taking the cell off to one side, and figured that slayer hearing and two sets of vampire enhanced ears would make that about damn' useless. Fuck it.

"Yo, G."

pause

"_Said_ I was going to call you. Been busy."

pause

"Yeah, just bet you have too. Sorry. Kinda happened."

pause

"Screw _him_. Didn't Vi give you the skinny?" short pause "Man... She's _level_, dude. You can believe her."

pause

"Xan tried to tell you guys. You didn't give him a chance. I didn't give him a fucking chance, and I should've damned known better." pause to listen "_No_, G. That man doesn't belong around kids. I didn't just freak and break him for no damn' reason. Neither did Xan, the first time. Heh - you should have figured there was probably a reason why Sunnydale High, home of the fuckups hired him, eh? Had to be something there - the fucking Hellmouth, guy."

pause

"Can't. Can't be around it, Giles. I'll hurt someone. Need time to wrap my head around this."

pause shrug

"Put _Vi_ in charge. Give her a damned Watcher. She's one of Xander's girls - she's got a damned good head on her shoulders. She's trained, she's a Sunny-D vet, Mini-Slays respect her. She can deal with the responsibility."

pause

"Yeah, and if Vi and I are right, you _do_ owe Xan an apology. So does B. So does Will. Me too, but it's probably too late for me. Guess Little-D and Vi and Rona were the only ones of his close _friends_ that didn't turn on him, huh?"

pause softer voice

"Yeah, sorry. Not for breaking Woodie, but for leaving a damn mess. And for leaving it to you and Vi to clean up. Sorry."

pause

"snicker No, don't sweat it. I'm not going to go all 'psycho slayer' and find a book depository or something." Listened, "Heh. Why, yes you _were_ thinking that, I could hear it." grin "I can hear you polishing your glasses now, too."

pause

"Seriously, G: I'm going to be All Right. And yeah, I know you're worried, for me, not just about what I might do. Thanks. And sorry, again."

pause

"Yeah. Favor?"

pause

"Don't let B get all 'I have to Save The World!' and launch herself into looking for me to 'rescue me' or some shit. Don't let Will get a paranoid attack and track me down. And _don't_ let Ken decide she needs to bring me in cause I've gone fuckin' rogue or something. That wouldn't be pretty."

pause

"Just need some space. Gonna travel awhile. I find any noobs, I'll ship them to you, in _Cleveland_, or somewhere Wood _ain't_. Don't worry - not gonna start setting up a rival Slayer pool or something." Listen, laugh "Oh you were so _too_ thinking it. I would have been. snicker"

pause

"Yeah. Fucking mess, huh? Sorry... I seem to keep saying that a lot" pause "Mean it, too. Really _didn't_ want to disappoint you, or have another Faith Thing blow up. Shit happens."

pause

"Naw. I'll be alright. Meant that part too. Got enough in the bank til I can find something to do. You need someone on the job, earning their pay... not off moping and cruising."

pause

"Yeah. Laters. Good luck." She closed the phone, looked at it a bit. Then turned it over and opened the back, removed the battery after turning it off, muttering "Shoulda done that earlier, dammit." Wouldn't stop _Willow_ from tracking it, but it would kill the inboard GPS she'd read about.

"Friends." She swept Blade and the others a look. "Can't live with 'em, can't bury 'em in the backyard without the cops getting bent."

**...**

Later. Pizza, good beer, and light conversation and banter that didn't go back to Slayers, vampires & demons, or heavy shit. Well, conversation between Faith, Abby, and Hannibal: Blade seemed satisfied with monosyllables and watching the interplay between her and his 'kids', as she'd started thinking of them. Family tight, and one that wasn't adverse to making someone else feel comfortable around them. At least... someone who could deal with that Addams Family vibe. Weird.

Faith had never seen a 'normal family'. She wouldn't know what to do with one.

Blade and King seemed comfortable with food, no cups-of-microwaved-blood drinking, so the 'recovered vamp' and dhampir thing evidently didn't leave Angel/Spike like after effects and cravings. Cool - she could deal, but watching Angel slurp down a mug of O-pos had always left her a bit sqeemed.

Abby kept shooting her curious looks, thoughtful, when she thought Faith wasn't looking. evidently, more than a bit of the Slayer history had resonated in her. Faith wondered how she'd dealt with the sudden rush of strength and speed, power, a few months ago. With the dreams... endless lines of young girls fighting, dying in horrid ways, born again with different faces and skins. Faith had damned near gone nuts when she was Chosen, before her Watcher found her. Taken weeks before she finally figured out how damn' _careful_ she had to be _all_ the time to not break glasses, tables, doors. People...

"So... your boss going to be a pain?" Hannibal asked around a slice, cutting his eyes sideways to her.

"Hrrmmm... ?" She blanked for a moment. "Oh. Right - you went through my stuff while I was passed out." She grinned back at his completely unrepentant look.

"Yeah. Couldn't hear the other end of that, but your side was fascinating. And funny." He snickered, shrugged. "I've left a few messes behind in my day. Know the feeling."

"I'll bet." She thought a bit, like she hadn't been ever since she'd hung up. Heh. "Probably not. He'll be pissed he had to fly in to pick up the mess... but he'd have had to do that if it'd blown up some other way. No big. Not sure some of the others will let it drop, so I'll have to go through a couple more of those, probably."

"Oh joy." His eyes crinkled.

"Yah." She rolled her eyes. Getting to be a habit lately. "Helps that most of the others will be just as glad to have the psycho slayer out of things, with minimal breakage, and they'll let it go." She couldn't quite keep all of the bitterness out of the snark. Decided she liked King for ignoring it.

Abby frowned. "Man... if they're your friends, they won't give you a benefit of a doubt?"

Faith shot her a look. "Lot of history there, Whistler. Not all of it pretty." She remembered Abby saying 'and friends call me Abby', but also that she hadn't said Faith could consider herself one of those. So.. 'Whistler', and never you mind that it brought visions up of a small, very badly dressed demon _way_ at odds with the trim feline girl.

She stood, stretching. "This a 'hang out at the hideout' kinda night? No hunting?"

Blade said, "Been quiet out lately. Not much to hunt." He didn't elaborate.

"And you ashed our leads to possibly anything big enough to be a problem last night, so... " Hannibal snickered.

"Sorry. Next time I'll ignore the screams of prey and go pass out in an alley."

"Cool. No fuss no muss that way." He stuck his tongue out at her faux outraged look. "So for a night or so we lay low, let the leeches decide the heat's down, they come out of their holes, and we go hunting again. Find, watch, trail them to.. what did you call it? Big Bad."

She laughed. "Yup. Then 'Find. See. Kill. Party.'"

"Yup. I see you do know The Drill."

"Been there, did that, got the souvenir ashtrays." She stretched again. "So, going to be quiet... got a gym? Going to have to burn off some energy later."

Abby nodded. "I'll show you whenever you're ready. I need to cut loose too, a bit."

"Cool. Later - right now: stuffed, lazy, an' my head don't hurt like it should have been if not for 'Pop's Cordial'. I'm good." Faith cracked the top on another St. Pauli Girl and swigged. Belched. Gave an unapologetic look to Abby's groan.

Sooner or later - best sooner - she was going to have to get some personal space and make a few calls. At least one, to Wesley. Get some Watcherly input on her dream, and on anything that might be a lead to what was going down. Not Giles.. not good to dump a mess on him, and then yell for help with an apocalypse. Damn good way to get B, Wills, and the others involved, and she didn't need to deal with that right now. See if she could work it out on her own, for a change, and call in the Cav later if needed.

She cracked her knuckles, settled into a chair, then sighed and desisted when Abby and King glared at her for picking up stuff to fiddle with. She looked over at tall, dark and taciturn "Yo, Blade." He turned his head and gave her a slow look. "So, gonna finish the 'You're both wrong' sitrep for me?"

She grinned at his almost sigh. "No, I didn't forget. Yes, I do want to hear it. Yes, I know you were hoping to get out of like, actually having to speak with like, words and shit."

Hannibal bounced on his seat. "Ooh! Yeah!" He made puppy dog eyes. "But Unca Bwade! You PWOMISED us a Stowy!!"

That actually got a growl out of Blade, that completely bounced off the impervious King. He shook his head, barely, and leaned back in his chair with a beer.

Faith settled back, gestured with her beer. "Hey, professional interest here. Unlike Kid Smartass there." Smirked at King's glare. "Gotta know it to kill it. Helps with my ambitions to be the Longest Lived Slayer in history of the world and shit."

"Ok. Both right. Two types of vampire." Paused, thoughtful. "Maybe more."

He glanced at King. "You and Abby know about Dagon and his Childer - you did the research on him. What you didn't run across, or didn't register was that there was more than one Primogen like Dagon."

Inclined his head fractionally towards Faith. "Other old ones, pre-human. There was Kaineron, for one. Probably not his real name, if he had one. He infused his essence into his childer, creating the vampiric undead: Childer of Kane. Dagon created the unliving: Childer of Draaken. Both types feed on blood, essence of life."

Faith tipped her bottle to him. "It's always about the Blood."

Nod. "One line is created by an infection that burns out the host and changes it to vampire, possibly a mystical virus." He sounded dubious, but grudgingly conceding the possibility. Obviously the idea of magic didn't set well with him. "Hence the allergy to sunlight and bursting into flaming ash when killed, reaction to silver: all mystical items. Damned near incurable, but can be reversed. Sometimes. Other is an animated corpse preserved by and inhabited by the essence of a Primogen, diluted by now. As Faith outlined. Little or nothing of the host survives except enough to leave a facade. Not reversible: when you destroy one, the essence goes back where it came from. Corpse goes to dust. Not a reversible condition, that I know of. Different types of energies, slightly different weaknesses and results when destroyed."

Hannibal frowned. "Ok, so why are we just hearing this now? I was a freaking infected, for crying out loud - I never _once_ heard anything about 'other lines' from even the old sucks around."

Blade curled his lip. "And how much time you spend _talking_ to old leeches and Masters about vampire lore?"

"Heh." Hannibal made a face. "Point. I mostly tried like hell to not get noticed by them."

"Good idea. Why you probably not dead." Blade looked through a place on the wall, continued. "Childer of Draaken don't _like_ Childer of Kaineron. Vice versa. Competitors for Prey. They tend to kill each other. Congregate in different areas. Draaken's childer tend to draw to each other's society, vampire underworld, and to humans. Kaineron tend to draw to mystical places and places of power."

"Like Hellmouths." Faith nodded. "Demonic calls to demon; people, violence, and blood calls to once-human."

Nod. "And seldom the twain shall meet." He looked at King, and Abby. "You just never happened to run into the other type. They're not much drawn to New York, and it's Draaken territories: the ones that do come in stay hidden or get killed by other vampires."

Abby looked at him. "How do you know about this stuff? We didn't, and we've been hunting a long time. Family business."

Blade moved his shoulders slightly. "I didn't, til recent. Whistler - your father - and I ran across the information while researching the Hybrids and the Blood Pack. After I found him again... he ran across some things that didn't fit while he was... out. We started digging deeper into vampire lore."

He riveted Abby with a look. "When you were researching Drake and Dagon, didn't you ever wonder why there were so many vampire legends, in every culture? All of them similar, but all of them with differences? Russia, Europe, Middle East, Africa, South America..."

She nodded. "Afraid we kind of wrote it off as being transmission error: legends getting distorted over time and retelling, clouded by superstition and human error."

He shrugged. "Now you know: different Primogens. Different lines. Different origins, probably, with different pre-human ancestors."

"Ok, makes sense." Faith nodded. "Do kinda wonder why the Watchers never mentioned a lot of this stuff. A lot of what I know was picked up from slayer dreams and information gleaned from other sources and non-Watchers."

King gave her an unexpectedly sober look. "Maybe they didn't want to complicate things for girls who were probably not going to live long enough to learn it?"

"That makes way too damn' much sense given what I know of them," Faith growled. "Thanks. I could have gone all damn night without hearing that."

"No prob. Glad to help."

Faith gave Blade a guileless look. "See? Didn't take nearly as many words as you were afraid of. Didn't even break the loquaciousness barrier." She winked.

She heard Abby choking on a laugh as she walked out.


	5. Chapter 5: Finest minds in The Universe

**Chapter 5: **_**Finest minds in The Universe, deadliest Babe in Leather**_

She ended up in the gym later doing katas. After they'd stretched out, she and Abby'd sparred for awhile, HTH and weapons, before she wandered off and left Faith to her own devices.

Previous combat skills and training or no, it hadn't taken them long to determine that Faith was better. Faith's style was looser and wilder, but she had the edge in speed, strength, mean, and sheer will. Not by much though. Girl had skills.

Damn, that girl was _strong_, too. Not like a lot of the baby-Slayers. Faith had gotten used to feeling a difference in... intensity? between her and B and the newly called. Power. B radiated power, when she wasn't damping it down, trying to 'be normal'. So did she, she knew: a lot of the baby-slays were terrified of her. The Sunnyhell vets had it too, Vi and Ken and the others, to one degree or another: stronger than the ones they'd found after; still not quite as intense as Faith and B. She wondered if Kendra'd had that too, and wished she could have known the Jamaican Slayer she'd heard all too little about. The other Called had less wattage still.

Possibly a factor of how close they were to that damned Scythe when they were called? Or to the Hellmouth? But that wouldn't explain Abby... and she _radiated_ as strong as Vi and Rona, strongest of the Mini-Slays.

Faith _still_ hadn't figured out how she was going to work up to the whole 'Congratulations, you've been Chosen because a bunch of idiots invoked an artifact to keep from being killed-to-death by The First Evil. Welcome to your new Fucked Up Life: Visions, Slayer Dreams, Prophecies, Apocalypses, and Demonic Assassins after your young ass. Don't die. It'll _purely_ fuck up your day.' Speech to her. Decided again she'd let the girl marinate for awhile, think on the Slayer information that Faith had told her using Blade-as-proxy. She had a lot to soak in, and knew it'd be resonating with the girl... dropping into place with a click to the puzzle of her sudden strength and reflexes, and the new nightmares in her sleep parade.

Begged off after sparring saying she was going to grab a shower and do some research. Geek, Slayer, _and_ potential Watcher, rolled into one. Girl would make some mini-Slay a damned fine watcher if they were lucky enough to get assigned her. Not that that was likely to happen, whatever - Abby had a solid thing here, and she was _needed_ here.

Hadn't figured out how she was going to go about deciphering her slayer dream, and figuring out the Coming Apocalyptic Wonder, either, for that matter. Or how Hannibal, Abby, and Blade fit in.

Speaking of... she noticed with a start that the man in questioned joined her at some point while she was lost in her thoughts. Doing a very graceful kata in a pair of old sweats next to and a yard or two away. Wonderful. Going to get her young ass killed one of these days, spacing out _thinking_ while some Big Bad walked up and had an easy snack.

Not many Big Bads moved as _silent_ as the big man, though. Not even Angelus. Good thing.

She left herself drift into an unthinking rhythm of punch, kick, turn, grab, throw, block, strike. Wash, rinse, repeat, with variations. Mixing styles and techniques from a half dozen disciplines, and from her own, wild, crazy, instinctive style she'd developed. Let her senses watch Blade as he drifted in his own kata. Man was disciplined. Powerful. An elegance of no wasted motions. Made her look sloppy: his styles and techniques were _tight_. She identified Muay Thai, Krav Maga, Kempo, Jeet Kun Do, and several others in his repertoire... some she knew, some she only recognized from memories of Slayer dreams, and slayers who'd known them. She noticed that he tended towards 'brutal and effective', like she did, but with less of the sense of dance she felt fighting.

She came to a rest, flowing into a relaxed stance, letting the power wash through and flow out of her into the ground. Charged and limber, _connected_, enjoying that sense of 'centered' and 'filled emptiness' she could never seem to capture for long outside of katas. Or combat. World always crashed back in, elsewhere, bring back thoughts and feelings and doubts. And pain.

She came back to herself with a shake, back to the world and surface awareness.

Noticed Blade flowing out of stance as well, giving himself that small shake. Wondered if it was like that for him: only completely in tune when in The Zone like that: stillness in movement.

"Nice," He gave her a small bow, palm over fist.

She returned it. "Not bad yourself."

Nod. "You could use a bit of polish, but... you got skills." Millimeter quirk of eyebrow. "Used to patching with power and speed?"

Faith cocked her head slightly, eyes closed, running katas and memories of combats through her mind's eye. Unoffended by the question. Nodded. "Yeah, some. Not many vamps have any skill or discipline, just raw power. Demons, likewise. Gotten tighter having other slayers to work out with."

Nod. "Hard to train with humans when you're stronger and faster than their eyes can follow?"

"Heh. Yeah." Raised an eyebrow. "Spar?"

Got an eyebrow raise in return. Damn - spent much time with this guy, she'd be able to carry on entire conversations and follow them just with microscopic twitches. "Bet you don't often find someone you can go all out with, either."

He nodded, flowed into stance.

Both started out slow, pulling things. Both gradually closed the gaps up to 'full out' as they tested each other's limits and reflexes. He was _fast_. Faster than her? Naw - _no one's_ that fast. But close, damned close. She was stronger, just slightly. Always surprised her, to encounter someone like him, that looked that built, and be stronger. Always surprised her when she actually encountered someone stronger than her, too. Never satisfied, she was. He had mass, reach, and height. Things that count. And more discipline - cleaner movements. It did matter. Punches, kicks, strikes, blocks, and combinations flew almost invisibly. Moving out there far past the outer edges of human capabilities; pushing the upper limits of _slayer_ speed and strength.

She grinned when she realized they were evenly matched, and that she was actually having fun. After a bit, so did he. A time later they both slowed, by unspoken agreement, having found the upper limits of each other's skills. She flowed into more dance and play than combat.

"Damn. Was that an actual _smile_, there a minute ago? And nothin' broke even."

He threw a combo she hadn't seen before, snapping her head back. "I didn't see anything."

"Right." She shook off the blow. "B-man's got _emotions_. Whoda thunk it? I won't tell."

They exchanged a flurry of blows and kicks for a time, then, "Nice bike."

"Thanks." She raised an eyebrow. Actual conversation even. Wow.

"Friend?"

Apparent non-sequitur threw her for a minute, thinking, which earned her a punch to the jaw and a sweep that landed her on her ass. Bastard. Oh - right. She flipped back onto her feet and bounced away, circling. "Angel. Souled vampire. He saved me from myself." She tried a combination that failed dismally, but did make him work a bit. "I returned the favor later. Some reason, he decided I needed a real Christmas. Bike was it. Bastard."

Got a raised eyebrow from Blade. She shrugged. "He's like that. And that type of stuff never occurs to me, always blindsides. Always behind the curve."

"It's not a contest." She couldn't glean anything from his expression.

"Guess not." She shrugged, feinted, kicked, and caught him on the chin. Grin. "This is, though."

"Heh." He returned the kick with interest in a back fist that came out of nowhere. She rolled out of it, grinning like a loon. "Angel... Wolfram & Hart?" He frowned.

"Yah. He thinks he can destroy it from inside." She worked her jaw, looking for an opening. "I think he's an idiot. But - man aims high, at least."

He didn't give her one, and didn't find one on her. Circled, prowling. "Creature's reach must exceed his grasp."

"Else what's a Heaven for?" She grinned at the raised eyebrow. "Hey - I read. Sometimes. Not stupid."

"And it keeps people off balance." He went for an arm lock off of a punch that she twisted out of, barely. "When you break character." He nodded, like that was something he understood and approved of... and probably did.

"Yup. Not a thug. But it helps sometimes when people see me that way." She was actually starting to get winded, a bit. They'd both broken a sweat long ago - not something she did often. "Always a few that don't buy it, though. See clear through."

"Wether you want them to or not." He launched into a blur of attacks that left her gasping silently, and both of them with bloody noses. They settled in for a time into a grim circling whirlwind of movement, her still dancing.

Bit later, and several exchanges more. "Daywalker, huh? All dhampirs immune to sunlight?"

He regarded her, thinking about it. Not about the question, but how much the answer'd give her. She could tell him 'Lots', but didn't. "No."

Surprised her again while she was looking for an opening, and trying out things that didn't work. "My mother was embraced while delivering me."

"ow. Sucks." She gave him a curious look, "What was her name?" Made it casual. Filed away the answer, making a note to ask Wes if there'd been a potential by that name, at some point. Slayer blood might do that: create a super-dhampir. It reacted... oddly... with magic.

They fought for a while, both enjoying it, Faith lost in the moments and movements.

After a time, "You going to tell her?" He gave her an opaque look, giving away nothing.

"Huh?" Slick, Faith. Blinding repartee.

"That she's a Slayer." Blade continued to circle, breathing easily. "Like you."

Faith stepped back, bowed hand-over-fist to break the fight. "Hadn't decided, yet. Need to." She grabbed a towel from the rack, poured a bottle of water over her head, and opened another one to sip from - passed it to Blade who accepted with a 'Thanks' nod.

Blade watched her, thinking things she couldn't fathom, and needed to, badly. "Knew something happened there. Not what," he said. "Things changed. Dangerous."

She leaned against a wall, arms folded, thinking. This was a Critical Conversation then, she knew. "And then you saw me in that alley, felt me, felt same thing as in her, and heard me say 'Slayer' to those vamps." Raised eyebrow. "Something went click and you brought me home."

Nod.

"And then you find out what it means, and that I'm one of those to blame. One of them." She gave him a level look. "What now?" He was very big, and very near, and very predatory now, and was setting of her slayer sense something fierce.

"Up to you, isn't it?" Still giving away nothing.

"Ha. As if." She grinned, tossed hair out of her eyes. One of these days, that grin was going to kill her. "Like I'm going to do anything against your will, or hers. Or Hannibal's. Get real."

He nodded, once, abruptly. Sank down into lotus, boneless and relaxed. She relaxed, just slightly, and matched him, a foot or so away. Not quite touching, not out of reach.

"Didn't plan on this. And I don't work for the Watcher's Council right now. As you gathered." She gazed into him, then through him... looking at things neither of them could see. "Sucky deal. As far as I'm concerned, she has what she needs right here. Family. Backup. Support. A team. Training. And a Calling, all of her own. All the things I didn't get. Anyone thinks that taking that away, just because a bunch of dead Shamans stuck a hunter's essence into some young girl, and a bunch of scared shitless 20 year olds who didn't want to die spread the joy around with a magic axe, is a Good Thing... needs to go through me first."

"And then through you, because by that point I'll be dead." She came back from where ever, back to focus, and looked him in the eyes. "And that just ain't gonna happen. I already been told that dyin' isn't on my options list."

She grinned. "So we figure out a different way. But she needs to know. Needs that choice. Needs to know about the dreams, and the things that'll be happening to her; that have already happened to her. Know she's not crazy, and not alone. And she's already in a high risk environment." She met his eyes. "That just got more dangerous. Knowledge is Power. Ignorance kills."

He nodded. "IWC going to have a different idea?" She had a momentary mind's eye glimpse of a pissed off Blade having a heart-to-heart with Wood and Kennedy, and snickered mentally. Bet Vi and Xander'd pay real money to see that. She cocked her head, considering for awhile.

"Not the same thing as the old watcher's council. Not just words: they honestly want to do things right this time. Not use the girls. Not rip 'em out of families and shove them into a supernatural meat grinder. Have lives, families, live longer than a few years." She paused, searching for words. _'Do this __right__, Faith'_. Wished that little voice would grab a cup of shut-the-fuck-up and produce a How To book.

"But... we're not perfect. Hell - I'm about as far from perfect as you can get. We're still trying to put this thing together, from scratch, after The First blew the old watcher's council the fuck away. We don't always know what the hell we're doing, how to do this, and all of us have scars." She tapped her temple to illustrate her meaning. "No one walked away from that thing without getting marked."

"We just know we don't want to make the same fuckups that were made before, with me, B, and others. So we get to make all new fuckups." She left it lying there for a minute. "Lucky us."

"Don't blame you." He cocked his head, looking into her. Huh? Not quite what she expected. "I've made calls in battle. That affected other people. It costs." He was silent for a time. "Happens. And you live, it happens again."

"Thanks. I think... "

He stood, nodded. "We'll figure it out. Get some sleep." Went prowling off with that big cat grace, all loose limbs and power.

She looked after him, wondering. Had a sudden thought - "Hey!" He turned, looked.

"I need to make a couple of calls. To friends. Nothing that will bring anything here." She made it casual. "You mind?"

"Don't need my permission. But use your cell, not our line." He headed out.

**...**

Another shower and a snack later, she stretched out on the bed in her... cubical. Not really a 'room' per se. Fresh clothes out of her bag, that had amazingly survived unstolen strapped to the bike's carrier while she was drunk and stupid.

Took three rings. "Hello?"

"Yo, Watcher Man?"

"Faith! Ummm... do you know what bloody time it is?"

"Ummm... about 2am California time? Were you asleep?"

"Noooo... "

"Heh. I'm closing my eyes. I see you, surrounded by books, with a migraine from reading, and a mug of frigid coffee sitting next to you that you forgot about hours ago. The Mystic Faith knows all, sees all!"

"Very funny. The coffee isn't that cold."

"snicker Thank god. I saved you in time. Take aspirin, I'm going to listen for you to swallow."

"Where are you?" She could hear him clacking away at keys, probably opening a window to a travel site.

"Yo, Wes! Calm down - you don't have to ride out to the rescue. My demise isn't imminent, yet."

"Ha, bloody ha. Didn't enter my mind. Was going to send Angel. I'll have you know _I'm_ not insane."

"Yet." She laughed. Small voice: "Y'know? I missed you guys." She sounded surprised.

"Yes, well... " Damn. Embarrassed Brit alert. "Giles called me. Asked if we'd heard from you."

Damn. sigh "No big. Really. Already talked to him: it's getting worked."

"Told him I thought you should have hospitalized and left that bloody prat long ago." pause "But I now owe Angel 50.00. I predicted it'd be another month yet."

Oh my gods. Laugh. Damn, she'd needed this, she realized. "You didn't!"

"Did so." He paused again. "Are you sure you're all right? Need a place? Shoulder? Lawyers? Bodies buried?"

"Yes. No, I'm with... some friends. Probably. No. And 'No', but thanks." Grin.

"Good. But if you do, you know where to come."

"Yup. Send Lawyers, Guns and Money. Got it. If I do, you'll be the first."

"Oh, gods no - I meant 'call someone _else_'" snicker

"Yeah yeah. Dick." pause "Everyone all right there?"

"Yes, quite. Nothing major, no new world endings scheduled. Angel's out on business... Fred and Gunn are fine."

"Good." She paused, surprised at herself wanting to drag out the casual talk longer. "Up for some research? Watcherly stuff?" Damn. She could practically hear him coming wide awake at the other end of the call, straightening with a snap.

"Research? You mean like, Watcher? You? Me...? Watcher you?" Oh hell. She done broke him.

"Sit, Wesley. Deeeeeeeeeeeeeeepppppppppp Breath." She sighed. "Yes. You Watcher. Me Slayer. Research, you, Fred. Info, me kill stuff. Give Tarmangani battle yell. Much party after. Finest minds in Universe, deadliest Babe in Leather. Unbeatable combo. Words small enough?" She snickered.

"Ah. Yes. Quite. You just surprised me is all. ahem"

"Surprised, hell. I thought you were going to croak on me."

"Ribbit. What do you need?" Damn. Fast recovery. She might have to keep him, this time.

"Slayer Dream. You ready?" Once she got the ok, that he had coffee, note book, recorder, and focus, she related what she was calling 'The QueenC Wakeup' in her mind to him. Verbatim, with full details. One of the few things her first Watcher had had time to teach her before dying had been the mental techniques for remembering Slayer dreams, and had ingrained them.

She never realized that that was a skill B'd never had, and wouldn't have believed Wes or Giles if they'd told her. Was something she'd assumed just came with the territory.

He listened, with appropriate and penetrating questions until she was finished, recording it for reference, and jotting notes for looking into. All business - keeping extraneous commentary to himself until she was done. He drew out details she hadn't realized she'd remembered or noticed. There was a long silence between them while he digested it, and she let him think.

"Are you certain it was her speaking in the dream?" pause "You do know she's still... " He trailed off, unwilling or unable to complete the sentence.

"Damn. No, hadn't, but figured from what she said. Damn, again. Sorry." She listened past the meaningless 'Not your fault's and 'Nothing to be sorry about's. She should have recognized there was something off about Cordy, that damned pregnancy. _Willow_ should have. Fucking slayer sense. No good if it don't work. "And no. Was her. Slayer Dream. Only fake person I ever get in these is that ghost of B's she left in my brain when we swapped bodies. Others are real - they remember it too, sometimes."

"Damn. And interesting." he paused. "So that means the Cheese Guy is real then? That's... disturbing."

eye roll "Focus, Wes. And yes, it is."

"ahem There is not even a _latent_ Hellmouth in New Jersey. Nor in New York. I can't even imagine a ritual that would create one, much less something like that. That sounds like a description of Dante's Inferno, all nine levels. Hrrmm... "

"Oh, great. You mean someone's going to drag the Pit into New Jersey? As in: '_The_ PIT?' And they want ME to stop it? There's no severance pay in this gig, is there..."

"No. And the retirement plan sucks bollocks. I _thought_ you were being overly optimistic in the 'demise not imminent' remark."

"Gee, thanks ever so. I know who not to call for pep talks." She laughed, sobered. "Any ideas?"

"Not at the moment. I'll have to dig a bit." He got quiet for a small time. "You know, we can be there in a day or so. You're way out with no support now, and this sounds big. And ugly."

She did think about it. Hard. "Naw. I'm not by myself, really. Have access to some high powered help, if needed. And I can always call you and Angel if it looks really grim... 'sides if it's that bad, I can call in G and Will and some slayers. I really need you and Fred where the books and resources are. Finding me info: how to stop it, what to kill, and how it dies."

"Yes, I suppose... " He made a small 'Right, then' noise in his throat. "I'll do my best. DO yell if you need to."

"I know you will. Ummm... I'll have to call _you_. I'll be keeping my cell turned off."

"Right."

Damn. Almost forgot... "Wes?"

"Yes?"

"Can you look up a name in the Journals? See if she was ever a potential?" She gave him the name.

"Don't recall... Shouldn't be hard. Connected?"

"No. Something else."

"Right then. Get back to me - I'll see what we can find. And Faith... " pause "Don't die."

"You bet. Laters." She closed the phone and removed the battery again. Damn. '_So that's what concern sounds like. I didn't know_.'

Wondered later why her last thoughts before drifting to sleep were _'You Watcher. Me Jane'..._


	6. Chapter 6: You eat with that mouth, kid?

**Chapter 6: **_**"You **__**eat**__** with that mouth, kid?"**_

_The Dream was always the same. Somehow she knew that, even though she'd never had it before. They were trying to hold the Gates of Hell, keep them from opening. Make sure the damned civvies made it clear before all freaking Hell broke loose, 'cause the demons were coming. Millions of them: a crawling, hopping, leaping, slithering, snarling tide of them, all fangs and slobber and pustulant skin. Bodies were packed too tightly, people trampling each other in their rush to get clear before It opened._

_Everyone she'd ever known was there. She saw Xander, off to one side, an axe in one hand and a short sword in the other, chopping down at a thing with too many eyes, and tentacles. He freaking glowed - shining with something she'd only dimly recognized in him before. Pure intent, pure will. Nothing was going to get past him to harm those who's fight this wasn't: not even through death. Battered armor and more battered flesh, all too mortal, beneath it. He flashed her that lopsided grin, and then turned to hack again. Rona and Vi stood shoulder to shoulder with him, dealing Death to the undying._

_She saw her mom in the crowd, swept away by pressing bodies. And there was B - Scythe flashing as she danced that whirling swirling dance of death she always did so well. Tiny blonde that had the monsters slavering to rush to the blade, because they couldn't, wouldn't believe that anything that small could be dangerous. QueenC, frowning with a cute pair of horns over her face, smashing down hellspawn right and left with a metal yardstick and a constant stream of invective at them for having the __nerve__ of splattering her designer outfit with gore._

_Slashed through a pit fiend and came to face with a visage she didn't recognize.. then did, kinda, suddenly and gasped, frozen. Brown hair, golden highlights. Shocked look back. And no time to ask, never any time, because they were coming, still coming - and if she stood here gaping like an idiot, she was going to die and everything died with her. Then combat swirled around and over her and the moment was lost..._

_Crowding the gates there was a screaming wave of hellspawn. Some of them cute little Disney devils, some of them straight out of the minds of Bosch and Geiger. The others were slowly, groaningly pushing closed the gates, against massive resistance too great for mortal strength to overcome. If only she and those like her could hold the line, keep the gibbering hordes from slashing them down as they shoved and groaned and died with the strain. She had curved blades in her hands that felt like extensions of her soul, and blood was deep around her. Blade and Whistler and King helping to close the line, Hannibal screaming a non-stop litany of "Fuck fuck fuck fuck ME! Game fucking Over!"_

_And there was Spike now, blazing so bright Faith couldn't look, burning away the lines of spawn around her. Trying to get to the gates to help push. A blue woman at his side, dealing death with an icy reptilian casualness. Angel somewhere else, she could feel him: full game face and laughing as he rended and tore, and was torn in turn. Joyce, with a skillet, and a grim 'Mom' look. Wesley, a bloody hole in his gut and blood at his mouth, blasting Fantasia demons with a Spas-12. Some kid, sandy hair, cocky as he swung a sword with restless abandon._

_The crowd was thinning, trailing off as the normals made their escape, leaving those like her alone to buy them time with lives and blood, dearly, gladly spent. She had no idea who'd made it away... could only kill and pray: please gods, let it be my friends, my children, my loved ones. Let my life be enough._

_Occurs that she could be making sure of their escape, clearing the path for them. Who the hell made it her place to be __here__?_

_Could hear C's voice in her mind from the other night's dream, as clear as bells, even though she could see her over over __there__, going under to a wave of goblins, far fewer after than before they took her. "You did. You grasped the Fire, Slayer. The fucking Chosen One. YOU chose this: to stand in the way of the Darkness, and gift it with Death."_

_She's standing before Faith now, glowing, looking not at all like she'd just been swept under and torn apart. Eyes full of compassion and Something Else, focused on Faith. "Who the hell else you gonna call?"_

_Beyond her, a truly odd company: a tall, Tall man, huge, and laughing, with a sword as tall as he is slicing his way to the windlass of the Gates. Clearing a Way. A dwarf, broad and amiable looking, but nothing amiable about that axe that cuts through hellspawn like a laser, and that rock solid arm that catches Xan under the shoulder as he falls and hauls him back to his feet effortlessly like a 200lb child. An elf, golden haired and and graceful with a bow that moves about like it has eyes of its own, firing endlessly. A woman, dark hair, leather pants, balls of light in her hands, melting whatever came near._

_And a big man, far too graceful and quick for someone his size. Not as tall as the other, smoking pistol in one hand and sword in the other. Laughing eyes, and a smirk that implies that there just __can't__ be anything really wrong with a situation that he's a part of. She wants to belt him, instantly. He looks over at her, grinning. "Who the hell else, indeed?" He jerks his head towards the Gate that won't stay closed, won't shut, and the whole fucking World will die if it opens completely. "Looks like you found us some work of noble note, damned straight." Looks at the Gate and sighs, heavily, like he's Been There and Done That and is exasperated as Hell that it didn't stay Done. She knows the damned feeling._

_"Don't know who the hell you are, or why you called us, Lady - but you can give a hand with this."_

_Her, give Him a hand? She'd tell him to bugger off to Hell, but it looks like they'd already done that thing. _

_"Shine in use or rust unburnished, kiddo. What'll it be?" He blew her a raspberry at her expression. "We're going to close this thing. You with?"_

_She stepped on a slice of cheese and woke up._

"Call Ghostbusters, stat..." She mumbled, fighting her way out of a smothering mass of blanket and pillow. "HUH? WTF, over?" Looked around, wild eyed. "Oh, fuck. Right. Slay Dream. _Jeez_."

She decided then and there that if she ever got her hands on one of the Powers That Say Fuck All Clearly, what happened next was going to involve a gasoline powered blender and habanero juice. She rustled around for some clothes. That's the damned thing about prophetic dreams, she groused. They don't tell you shit, you wake up tired, and having to pee real bad.

"Crap." Ok, so _that_ was a weird one. She couldn't begin to interpret it, so she concentrated instead on fixing it in her mind, going over and over it, recalling every detail and straining for glimpses of things she hadn't paid enough conscious attention to while she was in it. Setting it in place so she'd be able to describe it to Wes later when she called him.

'Watcher Man'. Ok, now _there_ was a laugh for you. If you were into sour humour and 'jokes on me' irony. Whod've figured that someone she'd enthusiastically practiced the 'five major torture groups' on would be the first she'd call when she had something like this to unravel? That he'd even _talk_ to her, rather than immediately head to NJ to shoot her the fuck out of hand? 'But I was _sick!_' in a high small squeaky voice wasn't an excuse, wasn't a defense, wasn't anything but a cop out - and both he and she'd have known it if she'd ever been idiot enough to try that one out. Truth or not.

Instead, she'd been one of the first people he'd come to when hellgod-possessed Cordy'd unleashed Angelus on a rain-of-fire soaked LA. And she'd broken out of prison on his bare statement without a thought, without hesitation, without a pause. _As he'd known she would._ And laid her life, soul, and sanity on the line backing him up and risking all of the hard-won progress she'd made to bring back the man who'd flatly refused to let her commit suicide-by-vampire in a fit of rage, grief, and self hatred. As he'd known she would. And when the fuck had he learned to know her better than she knew herself, anyway?

When daddy's prissy little British prat walked through the fires of hell and friendship, maybe, and came out the other side of it a hellofa large _man_ and with the kind of steel they don't put into you in prep school? Or maybe just desperation, because he'd known she was the only one he knew who could match Angelus dark-for-dark with a laugh, and because she owed Angel, owed both of them. Or both: the Wesley of Sunnyhell wouldn't have had the balls and insight to make that call and pull it off. The Faith of Sunnyhell wouldn't have given a shit.

Didn't explain why later when it was done, and she called, he was there with an easy laugh and an easy concern and a complete lack of judgment or reproach in his voice. She couldn't have done it, she knew: she figured she'd be inclined to take a spot of the 'hot, sharp, and cold groups' a bit personal like. For a long time after, and not forgotten or forgiven.

She made a face in the mirror. Hated introspection, anyway, dammit. If home is where when you go there, they have to take you in... your mind is where when you go there, you can't get the fuck out.

Fuck it. Coffee, food, action. This wasn't gettin' nowhere fast.

Coffee was easy. King had the everful pot going and was kicked back with his feet up watching the news - on multiple channels, multiple screens. And content to say "Hi" with a grunt and a casual wave of a mug to the pot rather than inane conversation. Food was almost as easy: someone'd gone out at some point and stocked the fridge with a wide selection of sliced deli meats and cheese, cupboard with breads, and counter with an array of pastry boxes. She made herself a thick Dagwood with a topping of horseradish and hot sauce and wandered back in to assassinate the clock for a bit while it vaporised. Early afternoon by the clock.

Stretch, workout, sluice off settled the meat and left her loose and restless: a bored predator with energy to burn and nothin' but nothin' to do. At least with it being set up for Blade and all, the gym's weight machines and free weights were actually massive enough to give her something to strain against, rather than just mark time. She kinda enjoyed that.

Mid/late afternoon, she'd finished another dagwoody, polished and brightened the edges of every piece of steel she owned, checked over her bike - twice - and started and stopped working on book three of Longyear's Infinity Hold series. Good book, but it couldn't, didn't, grab hold of her when she was like this. She had real people that were looking to die on her if she couldn't work this out - imaginary ones, no matter how personable, couldn't get a grip on her. She muttered an apology to Bando Nicos, shoved him in a pocket of her bag, and got up to pace for the umpteenth time.

Restless, confused, and bored makes for a irritable Faith, and an irritable Faith is annoying. She'd started marking time by Hannibal's muttering wince every time she'd yet again pick up some piece of equipment, turn it over in her hands unseeing, and put it back down somewhere else. She was kind of amazed he hadn't slapped her hands yet. She gave it maybe another 30 minutes before he forgot she could bend steel bars, snapped, and treated her like a hyperactive four year old. She was kind of looking forward to it. Blade was ignoring them both. Imperturbable, immersed in screens on one of the computers. Probably downloading zombie porn.

"Will. You. Please. STOP rearranging the firearms and settle down somewhere?! Jeeze!" Hannibal's glare could give thermite a run for its money. "I am NEVER having kids."

27 minutes on the dot. Close enough. Snicker.

"Can be arranged?" There was just enough amusement in her voice to let him know the 'Bored now. Yellow Alert.' tone was joking. Mostly.

snort "That'd almost be a blessing if I thought they'd grow up like you."

"Who says I'm growed up?" She batted her eyelashes at him, leaning forward on the counter across from him.

ahem "Sorry? Lost my train of thought for a minute. What?"

She smirked. "Not lost. Derailed." She made a chalk mark motion with her hand. "Yes! Still got it!"

"Why yes, you do. Both of them." He grinned.

"Didn't realize you'd noticed."

"Distracted. Not dead."

"Sorry." She shrugged. "Bored."

"_No_. Really?!"

She swatted him on the arm, not hard enough to leave a bruise. "Schmuck."

She stood up again, ignoring King's 'here we go again' eye roll "Yo, Blade?" He rumbled something without turning his head.

"I need to go out for awhile, do some shit." She made a vague gesture around the room. "Before I end up bending or breaking King here."

Without even turning around or slowing the muted clatter of keys, came: "Break away. No big loss."

"Hey!"

Ignoring Hannibal. Pause, "No, I mean: 'Am going. You mind?'"

He swiveled his chair around slowly, steepled his fingers, regarded her over them for a long few minutes. "Said yesterday. Not kidnapped. Don't need my permission" Waited til she acknowledged it with a short nod. "But... " He motioned her over to the console.

She looked over his shoulder as he pulled up a map. "We're here. Back streets leading in, here, here, here. Main streets leading past, here. Waterfront here. Downtown this way. Card with number on table, memorize" Gave her a look. "Don't lead anything back. Call as you head in so we can check and see if you have ticks on you. Have fun. Don't die. Git."

She stepped back, grinned, clicked her heels together and snapped a salute. "Sir, yes Sir! Five-by-five sir! Getting now, Sir!"

Slayer hearing caught a barely perceptible "Not 'sir'. Work for a living" as he turned back to whatever he'd been doing and she laughed on the way out. Cool.

**...**

Hannibal watched her go with a bemused look and a shake of the head. He turned back to the others to see both of them watching him quietly with expectant looks. "What?!" he asked.

"Go ahead. Get it out of your system," Blade suggested. Abby smirked and started counting off on her fingers with an exaggerated 1... 2... 3... 4... 5... 6... display.

"Oh. Right," King rolled his eyes. "So this is basically where I jump up, waving my hands about and pace back and forth yelling about how we just let the potential psycho-chick - whom we don't even know much about - wander off with a map so she can lead her associates back to kill-or-capture us all and feed us to the bad guys. And go through the whole 'how the hell can you trust her so casually' bit at Blade while he sits there impervious making 'meaningful expressions' with eyebrows and shit. Right?"

Blade and Abby looked at each other, Blade with a mock astonished millimeter lift of an eyebrow.

"You think he's seen this episode already?" Blade asked her.

Abby nodded, looked back at King. "Pretty much."

"Yeah yeah, fuck you guys." Hannibal smirked. "It's no damned fun if it's predictable. Piss off."

"'Impervious'?" Blade frowned slightly at him.

"I know your damned words," King snorted. "I'm not nearly as dumb as I look." He ignored Abby's snort, "Ok, so... " He looked a pointed inquiry at the other two.

"I like her." Blade stated. Abby nodded.

King stared at him incredulously. "You? You don't like _anyone_."

"I like _you_," Blade rejoined.

King snickered, "Noo... you hate me. You just tolerate me."

"Well, that's true," Blade acknowledged. "But I've gotten used to you."

"You didn't have to agree so fast, dammit." Blade gave him a bland look with a hint of amusement, and King grinned and went on. "Ok, so, how do we know she's not a threat?"

"She's a threat. I just don't think she's a threat to us." Blade stated. Abby nodded, cautiously.

"And how do you know that? Dammit." King threw his hands up in the air, "I agree with you even. But - I'm not sure I want to risk Abby's life and yours on gut instinct and 'like'. So... how do you know, so emphatically?"

"I talked to her. Abby talked to her." Blade studied his hands. "I talked to Abby."

Hannibal gave him an incredulous look, "_YOU_ talked to her? Mister 'never use a word when a eyelid twitch will do'? Wow."

"I even used words and shit." Blade settled into his recliner and crossed his arms, lowering his eyelids. "You should try it sometime."

"The mind boggles. Did you get that on film?" King smirked, "Hey - I talk to people!"

"No," Blade countered. "You talk _at_ people. You poke at them with sarcasm and jokes and make them react. And then when they react, you watch and measure. Not the same."

"It works," King snorted. "Yeah... ok. Point." He spread his hands, "Look: we know from checking into her she's had a rough time of it. I sympathize even... gods know Abby and I have reason to empathize. But - she works for a group that we don't know much about. She's connected with the head of the LA branch of Wolfram & Hart, pretty heavy bad guys from all available data. Group she works for recruits young girls with special abilities and trains them in private academies." He glanced at Abby, then met Blade's eyes carefully.

"Worked for," Abby put in. "You recall when we were talking earlier."

Hannibal made a gesture, "Wouldn't be the first time an operative was 'fired' to place them somewhere else." Abby nodded.

"My instincts about people are good. They have to be," Blade put in. "She says she's not interested in her former associates knowing about us, especially not by way of her. My instincts say she's telling the truth." He paused, sipped from his beer. "I think she's running from them."

"I think so too," Abby said. "I don't get the impression they really like her wandering around as a loose cannon after parting in a bad scene, from what we've gathered."

"So she's on the level, and her friends come looking and we get caught in the middle." Hannibal stated, "Not seeing a big difference."

"Then we deal with it," Blade shrugged slightly. "What do you want to do, drown her in the bathtub and toss her remains on the street?"

"No." King made a face, "Besides... she might be able to kick our asses." He grinned. "Ok, so what do you think about all of this 'slayer' crap?"

Blade raised an eyebrow. "It fits. I've heard the legends. Myths."

Abby gave him an inquiring look and he continued, "Into each generation, a Slayer is born. May not put her on our side, or make her a 'good guy', but it puts her on the same side of the war."

"So you buy all the mystical garbage she spouted? 'Thing the Darkness Fears'?" Hannibal grinned. "Tooth Faerie next?"

"She bends steel bull-barrels." Blade looked at him. "She can match me going full out in hand-to-hand. She can take a punch from me that would kill you and bounce back." he added, "Heh. Dhampir, vampires, Dagon, Bloodpack... Is mystical garbage that far out?" He smiled slightly, "Daywalker: the darkness fears me, too."

Hannibal smirked, "Yeah, but but but... at _least_ you're not Evil!!" He laughed at Blade's eye roll-and-growl, exchanged high-five motions with Abby.

"Sure you're not just still pissed she made you step back when you snarked at her, King?" Abby snickered. King stuck his tongue out and grinned. "I agree. She's stronger and faster than me. She adjusts almost instantly to techniques and styles in a fight, without even realizing she's doing it consciously, I think." She paused, "And I don't think she's interested in hurting us. My instincts."

"And you're _possibly_ even less trusting than Blade," Hannibal said. "So, check and double check." He spread his hands and threw them up. "And I like her too. She's funny, tough, and she's got that 'I just know you're going to kick me so get it over with now' look in the back of the eyes that makes me want to punch out a lot of people. Every time she refers to herself, almost, it's a slam."

"Yeah... " Abby made a face. "And I don't think she uses that to get in with people, like a con would. She uses it to push them away."

Hannibal snorted, "So we're all insane together. I feel _so_ much better now."

"What now?" Abby looked at Blade.

He shrugged microscopically, "Wait. Watch. Get to know her better." Paused, "And if we're wrong, we deal with it."

**...**

Had been heading first to a mall, but spotted a Wally World along the way and hit it instead. It'd do. Short chunk of cash later netted her a flip-style TracFone and a year subscription card, double minutes, and enough time in the bottle to keep her going for awhile. Got it set up, and registered, and put the battery back into her council phone to kill a bit of time while it activated and registered the added time. Checked her missed calls and messages.

Hrrmmm... That's interesting. That can wait a bit. THAT one can wait for-ever as far as she cared. Ok: Wes or... ah. Two birds, one rock. Picked W&H's number off the contact list.

"Wolfram & Hart, how can I direct your call?"

"Yo, Harm. Lorne there?"

"Faith!" She pulled away from the phone and the ear splitting squeal. "I'll put you through."

"Yeah, thanks... and Harm: bit less THX there. The Audience is deafened and I want to use that ear again some day, k?"

"Well, sorry, jeeze." There were a few clicks followed by a short pause and some 'on-hold' crap vaguely resembling music.

"Faithy! Heya there, sweet cakes, how ya doin'?"

"Making it. Kinda." She paused, "Did you talk to Wes any?"

"No. Well, he said you called, no details. But I do know that him and the Fredlets have been locked into the musty books and the computers since before-crack-o-dawn early this morning."

She made an exasperated noise. "Jeeze. Told him to get some sleep."

"Ha ha. I'm not even going to dignify that with a response, babycakes." She heard the green demon snort on the other end. "You call out of the blue, have problem, and think Wes is going to leave you on hold and go saw logs? Get real."

"Thought 'no details', huh."

She could actually hear the eye roll "They've been at the research thingy since before dawn. And I heard your voice when I picked up. Hello? Green, anagogic, not retarded."

"Ah. Right." Just to screw with him, she let herself sound dubious at the 'not retarded' comment and grinned. "Got any contacts in New Jersey? I need a major demon bar or three to troll, and a name or two."

"Oh jeeze, wouldn't be caught turned in Jersey, so not many. Can give you a couple, and a name, maybe. If he's still around." He sounded thoughtful, "Before I do, sing a bit."

"Oh lord."

"Ah ah ah! No singy, no namey." He ignored her muttered 'dick', and said "Quid pro quo, kiddo."

sigh "Your ears, don't blame me." She started humming a bit to ease into the first thing that came to mind:

_"You and me we're goin' nowhere, baby..._

_Running in circles back around to our pasts._

_You and me - we're goin' nowhere's slowly,_

_When we should be goin' nowhere fast!_

_Baby you know we should be goin'_

_Nowhere fast!"_

"Wow. You know, you're not too damn' bad when you pick something in your register, sweet thing."

"Jeeze. You made me sing just so you could crit my dulcet tones?"

"'Dulcet tones'? Ok... where is the _real_ Faith and what have you done with her?"

"Ha ha. I read a book. Honest."

snicker "I believe it. Ok... hrrmm."

"Hrrm is bad. I'm not going to like 'hrrmmm'."

"No no, nothing like that. Well... " Short pause, and then he said, "I'll grab Angel, and we can be there in about 10 hours, maybe less."

"Jeeze! No! Dammit." She made her voice turn mean, so it wouldn't come out as scared as the sick feeling in her gut. "No, dammit. Just tell me what the hell you saw, alright? Don't need a hand holding, and ain't dragging you guys in. Final. End of story. End discussion. Christ."

"ok." Definitely a dubious sound there. Not good. "Apocalypse season's early this year, sweet cakes"

"Gee, I figured that out already."

"Hold on. This isn't an exact science, y'know." She could hear him gathering his thoughts, sorting out whatever he'd gotten by whatever means he did that thing. "You'll make it, if you're in time. Otherwise, no point - no one makes it. What you hate is what you need for this. Good song choice: both your past and present have keys in them. Don't play the game: kick over the table. Don't let the game play you. Not all of what you need is outside of you; you've already mostly got it. You're both Dreamer and Dream." He ran down after that, then lost the vague tone to his voice and came back to his normal, upbeat tone. "Anything there?"

"Wow. Cryptic, much?" Her voice was absent: she was running that through her mind, fixing it there.

"Hey. Just the messenger. I don't get the mail, I deliver it." He had that tone that suggested he was still seriously considering grabbing the AI crew and heading out. Freaking heroes.

"K. _Stay_ there. I'll shout if I need you guys. Can you put me to Wes?" He gave her a couple of addresses and names, and then clicked her over, saying 'Take care of yourself, girl.' She gave Wes the dream details and the reading, and when he said they hadn't dug up anything yet, said she'd be back in touch, absently and broke the connection, still worrying at Lorne's wordings. "Fuck."

She was still thinking things through when she kicked the bike into gear and rode off, wandering aimlessly enjoying the rumble of power between her legs and the crisp air in her teeth. Waiting for dark. Killing time until killing time. Making a decision, she pulled into a diner and found a booth at the back: ordered coffee and burgers from the tired looking waitress. Pulled out her phone again and returned the earliest of the missed calls in the log. At least it was the least objectionable one.

Distracted voice on the other end. "Hello... ?"

"Little-D. Me. What'd you want?"

"Hey! Faith! Umm.. gimme a second here... " She heard papers rustling and keys clicking, breathing and muttering sounds. "Cool! Umm. I talked to Giles. And Vi... "

"Right. Yeah. And immediately shot me a call to make sure I'm ok and not gone suicide-slayer?"

Snort. "No. Know you're ok. You're an alley cat. You land on your feet and dust off." She heard the girl switch hands with the phone, and getting comfortable.

Snort back. "Yeah?"

Giggle. "Hell yeah. Bets that you a) rode out, b) moped, c) got drunk and maybe tore up a bar or two, d) went out and killed every vamp and demon stupid enough to cross your path, e) turned up on the porch of someone you know and they took you in, let you sleep it off, fed you. And now you're pissed, hurt, and shaking it off and figuring out 'what next?' Am I right?"

Heh. "Close enough." She paused. "Not mad? And how'd you figure that out?" She dug into her food while listening.

"Duh. Genius, remember?" There was a pause and a sigh. "Not mad. I figured you'd deck that slick asshole and walk before now. Just... kinda annoyed that it happened over this. Really didn't need to find out we got that blindsided."

Faith groaned. "Jeeze. Did everyone know Robin was a loser but me?" And, "Yeah. That kinda surprised me too."

"No. Only the people with like, eyes, who gave a shit. Me, Xan, Vi... " She groaned. "We kind of missed the, how'd you put it... 'fucking short eyes' thing completely though. Jeeze."

"You eat with that mouth, kid?" She ignored the vocal eye roll, "Xan didn't."

"'One Who Sees'. And we should have listened to him. Not let Buffy, Kennedy, and Willow run with the freaking and push him out to Africa." Dawn made a disgusted noise and a sigh, "Ah well. Water gone down da hole."

"Yeah, well, best put in a plug." She considered for a moment, "And... 'who gave a shit'? Like, when did you and I become buds, Dawnie?" Honestly curious.

"Huh. Maybe on that long bus ride from Sunnyhole when you and I were the only ones functioning and talking? Or maybe in LA when Buffy was spazzed over Spike, Xan was depressed over Anya, Giles and Andrew were going all PTSD along with the mini-Slays? Or later when I noticed I was the only one you kept in touch with for more than just your 'Yo, mini-slay found/inbound, demon dead, next?' sitreps? Seems to of happened though." Dawn sounded a bit surprised too. "Or at least, possibilities there, huh."

"Yeah. Maybe. Anyway... so, why did you call?" Faith decided she really didn't need to do bonding stuff at the moment. She needed slayer mode for what was next, time to cut to the chase. She was all too aware the clocks were ticking...

"Ah. Yeah." Dawn suddenly got real quiet, and still. "Had a dream. Vi had it also. You were in it."

"Oh shit." Suddenly wide awake and tingling in a _Bad Thing_ way. "Let me guess: huge hole, demonic city, feeling of impending doom? Or: hordes of demons, people fleeing, gates of hell?" Shit!

"Kind of a combination of the two? And a lot of people I didn't recognize. Think Vi had the latter one." Dawn's voice got very small. "What the hell are you into, Faith?"

"Usual. End of the World. Mr. Staypuff. Dogs and cats, living together. A catastrophe of Biblical proportions. Same shit, different day."

There was a choking splutter from the other side. "Damn you for making me laugh. Now I have cappuccino all over this shirt."

"Heh. Score!" Faith's voice got serious. She made it hard, cold. "Look, Little-D. Why I called. Listen up. You: Do. NOT. come to New York. Don't come anywhere near this coast. Stay on the other side of the pond. Australia, maybe. Outer space. Watch your ass. Don't get into cars with strangers. Don't get kidnapped. Don't die. Heart attack serious: don't blow me off. Don't give me a bunch of 'I'm all growed up now and and' crap. L-man had a reading. There was mention of a Key in it."

"oh." D's voice got very small then.

"Yeah." Faith's voice got gentler. "Hell with B's 'little sis' paranoia. This is my instincts talking. We'll settle the 'friend/not-friend' thing later, but you are not going to get your ass killed on me. And you are not going to be used to kick off Hellmouthzilla. Ain't happening. Got me?"

"Yeah. Ummm... should I round up the big guns?"

"No." She sighed. "Not playing lone wolf here. Got the Dreams and the warning. Was told this one was mine, no uncertains. And I got backup for it." She smiled. "Already had this convo with the Fang-gang. Gettin' old." Pause... "I will talk to Vi. She needs to know if her backyard's about to blow, just in case."

sigh "Ok. Dammit. Who am I to argue with the PTB?" grumble "Do let me know if you need anything, right?"

"Hrmm. Research, if you can do it on the QT, keep it from from B and the crew?" She hated even asking that.

"No probs. Call me." Small laugh, "Y'know... You do 'Command Voice' pretty well."

Faith snickered and broke the connection.

Darker now. Time to go kill shit and break things. She threw money on the table and stalked out.


	7. Chapter 7: We break up their party

**Chapter 7: **_**"We break up their party and kill the crap out of 'em"**_

Place was called 'Perditions'. Converted warehouse with a black paint job, and a red interior. Low lights, lots of smoke, indefinable smells. And things that crawled, slithered, creeped, and gurgled sitting at the bar and various booths/tables.

Everything in the place's eyes - or equivalents - cut over when the door slammed open and a not-very-large dark-haired human woman wearing a long leather coat and sunglasses walked in like she owned the joint, paused and stood for a moment like she was waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dimness. Gave the place a visible and casual once over, contempt and arrogance evident in every inch of her, and sauntered to the bar. More than a few eyes wandered to the closing door, speculating on exactly why the bouncer'd not bounced her and where he might be.

Bartender for the evening was a tall being with jet-black skin, a mouth full of fangs, curling horns, and a humanlike face over a body and gut like a massive pro-wrestler gone to flab. He had a mouth full of sarcastic remark when she stopped a few feet in front of him, removed the shades and parked them on the top of her head. Whatever he'd been thinking to say died in his mouth as those calm brown eyes met his without a lick of fear and instead "What'll you have?" came out.

"Beer. Draft."

He poured it, taking his time, as four of the more human looking patrons got up and came sauntering over. She turned casually as they approached, but said nothing.

"Hey, B'yarj. You order in take out for us? That's so sweet." His companions snickered.

He went into full game face and snarled, "What you rolling your eyes at, blood bag?" and reached out grabbing her by her coat.

That was the theory, anyway. A short sword no one'd seen whicked through the space between his chin and shoulders and the reaching hand poofed into a fall of dust, along with the rest of him. The blade came to rest on a leather-clad shoulder and an amused gaze swept the remaining three.

"Oh look! Dusty! I thought you licks in these parts went all sparkles when whacked. Shows me, huh." Eyes met and locked with the yellow ones of what she'd evidently pegged as the pack's 2IC. Her voice was conversational, non threatening, amused, "'Take out'. 'Blood bag'. You cannot believe how many thousands of times I've heard those. You idiots really need to think up some new quips." She cocked her head, thoughtfully. "Oh wait - you can't. Being Turned kills braincells."

Her eyes raked over the three, coming back to the one she'd settled on. "Take your best shot, chuckles. I ain't gettin' any younger." He left game face abruptly as he realized both his associates had taken a step back. "Otherwise, sit the fuck back down and nurse your rancid B-positive and maybe you'll unlive a bit longer."

The female minion just behind him snarled out, "Just who the fuck do you think you are? And what do you think your odds are of living long enough to walk out that door again, alive?"

"Faith."

It just kinda rolled out there and laid flat, and a number of patrons who'd stood quietly having half-assed thoughts of joining in sat back down silently, and found something engrossing in their drinks to pay attention to. Others watched with unabashed fascination.

"And, better than average, I'd say." That had come out cocky, or arrogant, things might have gone different. She sounded _bored_.

That did it. The three vampires vaporised to their table so fast you'd have thought they dusted themselves. She swept a blinding and not-unfriendly smile around the room, and turned back to the bar. A few recipients of that flashing grin even smiled back, before they remembered themselves.

B'yarj just set her beer in front of her, and shook his head. "Vamps."

"Yeah." She looked him over and met his eyes, laying the sword down on the bar top. "So, 'B'yarj', huh?"

"Yup. Me." He nodded. "Slayer."

"Yup." She took a pull on the beer, glanced into the bar mirror. "Am I going to have any problems here?"

He gave her a thoughtful look. "Depends. No one gives a shit about vamps. It's how you handle _them_ that counts." She nodded.

Turning and leaning against the bar, she eyed the three demons walking up to her calmly. They were humanoid, red-skinned and scaled, heads crested with a row of horns, and wearing very expensive suits that they managed to make look like something a cheap mobster would wear. The lead one stopped in front of her, just out of sword's reach. She smiled as he nodded to her. "Slayer."

"Got it in one."

He chuckled. "Kind of hard not to. What're you here for?" He gave her what he probably thought was a hard look. "Business, or pleasure?"

"Business. Friend named Lorne said this place was ok."

"Ah. And how's he doing lately?"

"Movin' up in the world. Or down, depending on your opinion of bloodsucking lawyers." She smirked. He inclined his head, smiled something that had no humor in it.

"What kind of business?"

"I could be a smartass and say 'Slayer business', but I'm really not looking for a fight." He nodded. "So... " she glanced past him to where his boss was sitting. "This a private Q&A, or you mind if I address it to the whole place so I don't have to do it twice?" When he shrugged and indicated no preference, she nodded and stepped out into the room. Parked one foot on a chair.

Raising her voice to carry, "Ok, listen up everyone: I really don't care to have to do this twice. Don't have the time, don't have the patience." She swept her gaze across the room, seeing all eyes, and other things, on her. Nodded. "Right."

"My name is Faith. I'm The Slayer." She gave it a moment to sink in.

"Apocalypse Season's starting. I'm not really interested in rousting any of you, except the leeches, but if I don't get a handle on this, isn't going to matter what I want: you'll be in the killzone. By now, all of you know what I am, or if not, someone's explained it to you."

"Whatever 'it' is, it's Big, it's Bad, and it's goin' down. It is _not_ going to leave any bystanders. There ain't no 'uninvolved' here. I'm going to stop it. World don't end on my watch." Anyone had doubtful expressions at that, they kept them to themselves. "I want to know Who, What, When, and Where. Gimme something, and I owe you one, as long as it's something I will do." She paused, looking around the room. "Get in my way, and you're dead."

She brought her foot off the chair and straightened. Leader of the three red-skins inclined his head to a table. "Boss wants to see you." She nodded and sauntered over with him, pulling her sword off the bar and sheathing it at her back.

'Boss' was a brown skinned humanoid with rows of bone spurs along the sides of his scalp, and jawline. He also had an expensive suit that he _didn't_ make look cheap. He didn't introduce himself, and she didn't ask. "Slayer."

She inclined her head, accepting the title. Turned a chair around and sat in it facing him, arms across the back. "Thug."

He laughed. "No fear, huh?" Not waiting for an answer, he said "Nice speech. I'm impressed. Most of your kind, when they come down here, they throw their weight around, break heads even when it's not needed, threaten and bluster, make a bad scene. You: brief, blunt, to the point. No fuss, no muss."

She laughed. "There isn't any 'my kind'. I'm the only one of me."

"That's for sure." He nodded, "You get my meaning. Other Slayers."

She shrugged, nodded. "I got weight, don't need to throw it. I don't threaten: I _kill_. I know about Respect, when to show it, when to demand it. I know courtesy, when I'm not rushed. I don't waste words, or time, on bullshit." She met his lambent eyes and locked them. "You're gettin' perilously close to wasting time I don't have."

His eyes broke first and she smiled. "Yeah. Seerers and portents say something nasty's coming, and they're moving on. Fringe players are leaving, and hard cases are coming in. Lot's of vamps, lots of leeches. I don't know what's coming, but I'm staying, get me?" She nodded. "This is my town." He grimaced. "I'll keep my ears open, ask around a bit. Can I reach you if anything breaks?"

She scribbled her new number on a card and slid it over to him. "I'll be around. 'Preciate it." Stood and turned to the door.

"Watch yer back, kiddo," he called after.

She turned slightly and looked back at him from under a fall of dark hair. "I'm the thing that hunts the monsters. They need to watch their backs from _me_." Her voice was soft, and he wasn't a coward... but damned if that didn't send a cold ripple up his spine.

Door had _long_ closed on her back by the time he looked away.

**...**

The night started young, but it got old fast. She repeated the performance at the other two places Lorne'd given her with similar results. Only had to make a splash at one of them, and she didn't have to hack her way out. Paid call on the name he'd given her, and one a bartender'd passed on, and repeated the speech, request, and warning. Noted a couple of leech bars along the way, but left them alone for now. Not too productive a night, unless you considered several killing attempts by vamps and leeches 'productive'. She didn't. She left dust and ash behind her and moved on.

Word got around. Things asked questions, passed out warnings. Things started happening, but not so's one could see the results. And not fast enough.

Time to rattle things and see what shook loose. She just wished she knew what to rattle.

She ended up on a rooftop about a mile or so away from Blade's, looking out over the harbour. She watched the trash bobbing in the moonlight, and thought about death, and love, and change. Her mood went from dark to black, and then a lethal serenity settled into her as the sound of the waves lulled her human side to sleep and broke the chains on the _Other_ inside. An almost forgotten phrase came to her from somewhere: _'One foot in the past, one in the future, all you can do with the present is piss on it.'_ She threw back her head and laughed, Death in a long coat: Slayer. Seek. Hunt. Kill.

Predators live in the now. They know when to move, and when to watch above the game trails, lurking. So be it. She laughed again, and power walked within her. _'Later then. We wait.'_

And hunting things felt the power in the darkness, and got real still, real fast, or left for other haunts.

She thought for an endless while, running everything through her mind. Not worrying at it, just moving the bits and pieces around and seeing where they connected, where they settled. Making sure that she had all the parts fixed her awareness, so they'd be there when something else came up to click with them.

When she was done, she pulled out her council-cell and picked a number off the bottom of the contacts. Didn't ring long.

"'Lo." The voice was tired, but not sleep fogged.

"Vi."

"Faith. You know what time it is?" She sounded half annoyed.

"2am. Beginning of rush hour in Slayer time. You weren't asleep."

"Ha. No. Damned good thing we don't need much, either." She did give a yawn stifling sound, "You sound good, if a bit remote. Whatcha doing?"

"Heard you had a visit from the Slay-faerie and she left a Slay-dream under your pillow."

"My. You do get around. You too?" evidently Dawn hadn't mentioned her call, or Vi was playing cute and quiet.

"Yeah. You were in mine. Figured I might have been in yours." She chuckled. "Gotta stop meeting like that."

"No doubt." No yawns now, all tiredness banished. Faith could almost feel the other girl straightening alert. "Any idea what, when, who, where?"

"Hunt. Seek. Kill, huh?" Faith smiled into the phone.

"It's what we do."

"Yeah. No. No clue, not yet. Wondered if you had any clues?"

"No. Maybe. Giles is digging, but no dice. Ran it past one of the people we have on call... he said and-I-quote: 'felt a shifting in realities'. He also saw a sword, but nothing else." She described it, as detailed as she could: evidently reading from notes by the rustle of paper.

"Huh. Run that description past me again." Vi did, carefully. "Rings a bell, somehow."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Maybe. Can't quite put my mind's eye on it though. Hrrmm... "

"If you do, let me know. I'm thinking about calling in the troops... " She trailed off as Faith cut in.

"No."

"No? What do you mean 'No'?" Vi gave an exasperated snort. "Faith, you can't keep us out of this and hotdog. This is my backyard now."

"Instinct. Dreams. Word from On High. I've been given this one." She frowned into the phone and cut over the other slayer. "Don't worry: you're not out of it. Dream says you're in. But it's my Call, my Calling. You're going to have to gear up for war, get the kidlets ready for what's coming." She said into the silence: "You know how this goes: Bastards that Be aren't much for _details_, but they are pretty damned hardliner on _Players_. We fuck this up, everyone dies."

"Yeah. Well, haven't had the personal PTFY experience, but I've heard the tales."

"I've got the t-shirt and souvenir ashtrays." She gentled her voice, "I'm not pulling _rank_, Vi. There ain't no 'rank' in this. Only two rules: Don't Die, and Do The Job."

sigh "Ok. Research, prepare, watch, wait. Then what?"

"As soon as I figure it out, you'll be in the top five with a Need to Know. I say we break up their party and kill the crap out of 'em." Faith grinned. "I'll be in touch."


	8. Chapter 8: Hellgates and demons

**Chapter 8: **_**"Hellgates and demons and pits that are rifting"**_

She remembered to call in on the way, got the all clear, and waved off any Q&A with a yawning 'tomorrow, ok?' on the way to shower and bed. Fell into a boneless sleep as soon as her body hit the sheets.

_Her footsteps echoed in the vaulted spaces. The air was musty with a feeling of time and age and smelling of old books and cheddar. Rows and rows of heavy wooden shelves stretched away in all directions, as far as her eyes could see. Ladders and tomes, tomes and ladders, and never a thing to read._

_"Shhhhhhhhhh!!" The librarian gave her a frowning look from one of those rolling ladder thingys, and stuck a thick volume back in place. "Quiet!" She jumped down to land lightly with a swirl of blonde hair and tweed, and she saw then that it was B._

_Or not-B: the ghost of Buffy left in her head. She couldn't explain how she could tell the difference, ever, just that she __knew__._

_Not-B stamped a foot, pouting. "It's not here, dammit!"_

_"What's not?"_

_"You __know__." Not-B glared at her like it was Faith's fault that 'It' wasn't there. Hell, maybe it was._

_She let the glare bounce off with a shrug, gazing around. "So, what happened to the usual place, Echo?"_

_"Different sitch, different place. Times called to the reasons, reasons call to the spaces. But you know that."_

_"If I did, I wouldn't ask." She shook her head and wandered off through the shelves, looking at titles and not recognizing any. Hell, she couldn't even recognize the __languages__._

_"It's not here. I've looked through all the stacks and it's not here!"_

_"Either say something worth hearing, or quit following me around, dingy." Faith crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at the rows. There had to be something about this... something niggled at her mind._

_"Aha!" Not-B stepped in front of her, head cocked and green eyes fixed on Faith with a peculiar intensity. "Maybe it's in here!" She reached her hand into Faith's forehead and began rummaging around while the watch continued to melt and the echoes laughed._

_"Hey! Getcher hand the fuck outta my mind!" Faith stepped back, swatting Not-B's arm to one side._

_She got an exasperated look in exchange. "No, not in there either, dammit. What did you do with it?"_

_"Me?!" Faith glared. "I didn't do nuthin' - __you're__ supposed to clue __me__!"_

_She stepped back again, about to launch into an exasperated pissed off rant about freaking Idiots That Be and useless bleached blonde ghost-slayer half wits, but when she opened her mouth, something else entirely came out:_

_"If you could read my mind love,_

_What a tale my thoughts could tell._

_Just like a paperback novel,_

_You know the kind that the drugstores sell._

_A tale of heroes and magic..._

_Of shattered dreams and a broken spell -_

_And when you reach the part_

_Where the heartaches start_

_The Hero would be me._

_And Heroes often fail..._

_And you won't read that book again_

_Because the ending's just too hard to take._

_Never thought it would be this way and I have to say_

_That I just don't get it -_

_Didn't know it could end this way,_

_and I've got to say -_

_That I just won't let it pass."_

_She heard a giggle from behind her and spun, jaw dropped._

_"That's nice, dear." Not-B said sitting on a wooden table, legs kicking slowly. "I __knew__ you brought it with you!"_

_"Riiiiiiiiiiiggggghhhhhhttttt," Faith said, as she fell awake._

Faith groaned and pulled the pillows over her head. "Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrggggggghhhhhhhh!!"

It wasn't nearly long enough later that Faith heard a soft knock at the door, and finally gave up all hopes of getting back to sleep.

Stake and knife to hand, check. But if anything was this far in, lack of invite wasn't an issue no more. Course, bad guy wouldn't of knocked... She sat up, shrugged. "Yeah?"

"Umm.. you up?" Abby's voice, hesitant.

"Yah. Come on in." Faith slid the weapons under the pillows.

She opened the door, edged around, flattened on this side of it to lean. Perched like a nervous bird: something had her spooked. "I err... heard you bellow. Thought you might be."

"snicker Sound of frustrated rage at the Universe, girl." She yawned, stretched. "What's up?"

"Can we talk?" Hesitant. Uh oh. 'Here we go,' Faith thought.

"Sure. Just let me... " She made a vague motion towards the bathroom and got up without waiting for an acknowledgment.

"Want me to bring us some coffee while you're in there?"

"You could do that thing and I wouldn't gripe."

Faith took care of morning issues, washed her face and splashed cold water in her eyes. Toweled off, still yawning. Damned Powers. Idiot dreams. Gods damned life. Still muttering under her breath she headed back into the other room to find a carafe and a hot mug already poured, Abby sitting cross legged in the straight chair that was the only other furnishing.

She drained about half the mug in three gulps, "S'good. Ko - shoot."

The girl looked about as uncertain as Faith'd seen her in the past couple of days. Come to think of it, she'd never seen Abby uncertain. She sighed internally as Abby started off with, "What you said the other night... about the Slayer story?"

Faith nodded, watching her.

"Is it true?"

"Yeah." Faith nodded again, looked at her nails. "I don't make stuff like that up just to yank people's chains." Met the girl's eyes, straight up.

"I... "

Faith continued giving her a calm gaze. "Sure you wouldn't rather continue this with Blade here, Whistler?"

"Abby," Faith nodded as she went on. "No. Just us. I want to know."

Faith nodded again. "Not just us, any more, but... Ok. Your call." She took a deep breath, let it out. "Let me guess: a few months ago, you suddenly found you were faster, a lot stronger, more agile, and you started having wierd dreams - if you weren't having them before. Weirder than normal, which given what you do, were probably nightmares by anyone's standards already. You heal faster. You maybe heard a small voice, not yours, in the back of your head that said: '_Are you ready to be Strong?_'"

Abby nodded, eyes narrowed, then wide. "Yeah. I can't bend that barrel, but I could straighten it part way."

"Congrats. You're one of us now. Slayer." Faith's voice sounded weary, "You were a potential before. Someone in your past gave you The Gift. And a bunch of terrified people fighting for their lives against the biggest bad they'd ever seen woke it up in you so they'd have a half chance at not dieing."

Abby looked away. "That's what you said, before."

"Yeah. S'true." She caught Abby's eyes and held them. "I wouldn't have agreed if we'd had any other option we could see. I don't like people making choices for me: I try not to do it for them."

"Yeah... " She sighed. "I could hear that when you were talking the other night. Feel it." She gave Faith a sympathetic look. "You don't like this thing much, do you."

Faith laughed, wildly, it startled out of her. "Oh no... I love it. Jeeze. Always have! Just don't like all the shit that goes with it, and don't like that there wasn't a choice. Not that I'd have chosen not, get me?"

She looked at Abby with an exasperated mix of pride and compassion. "You should have had a choice, but you never did. I should have.. B... all the others. You never had a choice even if we hadn't raised the Power in you: it was made for us eons ago. If we hadn't and I'd died, you might have been Chosen next the old fashioned way. And with no one left to explain what the fuck was happening to you, or why The First was looking to ice you."

She looked out the window louvers, speaking softly. "But I don't hate _It_. I like the Power. I like the rush. I like knowing that I have a purpose. I _like_ being the Thing that Monsters Fear. I like standing between them and those that can't protect themselves. I like the dance, the kill, and that wild savage intensity where life is full blazing Technicolor, not shades of gray. Maybe I like it too much... " She brought her eyes back around to Abby's. "What I don't like are the things that I did while I was trying to find out who the hell I was. And what it did to me and others. Understand?"

"Kinda," She looked thoughtful. "What happens now?"

Faith shrugged. "Depends, on a lot of things. Mostly you. And your family here."

"You're not going to try and recruit me to your Slayer school?"

"No. And not mine, not any more." Faith shook her head, "Don't think you need it. You've already got training, instincts, support, skills... all the things we... they try to teach a newly awakened Slayer. You have friends who'll back you. And you've already got a mission."

Abby frowned. "I think that you're more like Blade, and Hannibal than me in some ways. They live for the war, the kill, loving it. I got into it for personal reasons... but now, it's more something that has to be done. I'm one of the people who can do it."

"Best reason, maybe." Faith said. "But you are in it now already, and the power's an edge. Won't hurt, will help. Doesn't have to always be saving the world. Protecting your corner of it can be enough."

Nod. "Then... why'd you come here?" Abby's face was carefully expressionless, but Faith was already used to reading Blade, and Whistler's pokerface wasn't up to his levels.

"Got drunk, fell down, Blade brought me." Faith laughed. "Honest."

Abby studied her for long moments, then grinned. "So you weren't looking for me? We wondered."

Faith looked away, briefly. "Blade doesn't trust me much. Not surprised."

"Maybe you should be." Abby looked at her. "Blade doesn't trust easy. Neither does King. But Blade trusts you more than I've ever seen him do anyone on such short knowing."

Faith looked doubtful, shrugged. "No, not looking for you. But I probably would have if I'd known, just to give you The Speech. And then moved on."

"So now you've given it, you move on?" Abby frowned, as if she was surprised she didn't quite like the idea.

"Normally." Faith stretched. "But... " sigh "You've been having the dreams again, recently. The Pits of Hell in the middle of the city? Gates of hell and hordes of demons? Me and you and a shitload of people you don't know, fighting? Long room with tons of books?"

Abby's eyes got wider with each sentence. "How the _hell_ do you know that?"

"Me too. Welcome to the Wonderful World of Slayer Dreams. You're about to get your first Apocalypse." She groaned. "You, me, King, and Blade need a council of war. Tonight or sooner."

"So - so much for _just_ 'protecting my corner of it', huh?"

"Smartass. And this is _your_ corner. I'm just passin' through." Faith smirked. "Let's go find some food."

**...**

Food and coffee and 1pm and Hannibal was still sleeping off whatever they'd been doing while Faith was out doing the 'Seek. Hunt. Kill.' thing. Blade was already up and gone, out hunting, evidently the dhampir needing as little sleep as a Slayer to keep going. Faith'd been sleeping more than she'd ever done since her prison time lately. Not that she was complaining: felt good, and evidently her body'd been needing the down time.

But she could feel the clock ticking now, in the places where the watches melt and where the hell did that come from, anyway?, and she was getting restless, edgy, and bored. Time was running out, her inner sense was telling her, and she hadn't even figured out 'Who' and 'Where', much less 'What' and 'When'. And that nagging itch that they kept giving her in her dreams that she should know, somehow, was driving her nutso. Glah.

Killed time and energy with a near-lethal-speed workout that left Abby laughing, exhilarated, and Faith strumming like an overstrung bow.

A shower and snack later and she dialed Wes to fill him in on the latest from Slayer Dreamland, and just to have someone to vent her frustration at. With. And that was a damned strange feeling for her, too.

Once he'd absorbed everything she'd seen, every tidbit of possible information she'd run across and drawn half remembered dream details out of her, he fell into one of those long thoughtful silences.

"Still nothing on our end," he said, finally. "Nothing in the books that would indicate a way of opening something like that, not short of a major Elder God being Awakened... and all of our sources suggest that they're all still sleeping or confined to the Deeper Wells. And no indicators of anyone having gained access to any of the books containing rituals for raising them. All of those are still safely guarded."

"Good. Doesn't feel like Lovecraft, anyway." She sighed. "Grrrf, dammit. Feel like I've got all of the damned pieces, or most of them, but they're not clicking. And I can't see what the pieces are even."

"Hrrmm. Well." He paused.

"If you say 'Oh dear lord', and I hear glasses polishing, I'm going to scream." She snickered.

"Ha. No." He chuckled. "No... was going to say that possibly if you could identify that man you saw at the end of the Gates dream, you'd have it. He seems to have a pivotal resonance in your mind."

"Grr. To borrow a B'ism, 'Well, duh!'." She rolled her eyes. "Figured that one. Don't seem to be happening. Feel like I'm stuck now in an endless dream-loop going 'Apocalypse season! Wabbit season! No - Apocalypse season.'" She snickered.

He laughed. "Yes. Well. Just make sure you're the one holding the shotgun when the music stops."

"oh. My. Gods. You actually caught a Bugs Bunny reference You've been Corrupted." She grinned. "I think I may go hide under the covers. That's fucking scary."

"I'll have you know we have Bugs Bunny cartoons in England."

"Suuuuuuuurrrrrrreee you do." She could almost hear him visibly decide to not dignify that with a response. "Hrrm. Ok... sword from what Vi said was seen. That's an important bit."

"Yes. Quite." He coughed slightly. "Unfortunately, there's no known mystical sword of that description, anywhere. We've checked every possible reference we can find, and even run it through the Wolfram & Hart databases. And looked in the vaults."

She could visualize him ticking off thing on his fingers as he continued, "No archaeological digs anywhere that might have dug up something ancient. No odd museums robbed of strange artifacts. No strange occurrences in any of the Weird News papers or 'From the Weird' sections that would tie in. So it's either a) something described in the Watcher's Archives that didn't survive The First, b) something unknown, or c) doesn't exist."

Faith frowned, "Also a 'shifting-in-realities' mentioned. Maybe someone pulled it in from some other dimension?"

"Possibly, but if so, that leaves us a dead end for the nonce."

"Grrr. Again." She made a face, thinking. "'Books and swords and dimensional shifting; Hellgates and demons and pits that are rifting; Ghost-B's and Slaydreams and vampires drifting'. Could set it to music and get a new 'These are a few of my unfavorite things' verse."

"Ha. Yes, quite. If we could only find the thing that connects all of them, we'd have it." He paused. "Maybe one of your next dreams will provide the missing connectors, if we can decipher them."

"And if the Gates don't open while we wait, dammit." She sighed, "Ok. Well... keep digging and keep looking for indicators, and I'll keep shaking things apart here. Maybe if we can get a line on 'Who', 'When', or 'Where', 'What' will sort itself out."

"Quite. Good hunting." She said 'yeah' absently and clicked off, disturbed and impatient still.

**...**

Late afternoon and everyone was up, back, and gathered in the main room again, finally. Council of war. Small council, no idea of what the war is or when or where it starts. SSDD on the half-shell.

_Earlier, Blade had come in before King'd woken, and Abby'd filled him in on hers and Faith's discussion. He'd looked at her and just said, 'Now what?' and laid it out to sit there._

_Abby'd shrugged and said "Faith said she thinks it's best that I stay here with you guys."_

_He'd nodded. "What do you want? Up to you, really."_

_She looked at a point on the wall and through it. "Don't know." Small voice. "Want to stay. Also think it'd be interesting to be around people who've been through the same thing, and can show me what it's about."_

_Blade glanced at Faith. "She's here."_

_Abby'd nodded. "But she won't be forever."_

_Blade'd given one of those microscopic shrugs. "Nothing is forever."_

_Faith put in, glancing from one to the other, "You know... not like you have to decide right now, Abby. School's set up in NYC, which ain't far. And other slayers'll be around. Nothing says you can't make contact with 'em and do both: stay with your family and work with and learn with them."_

_"Besides," she continued. "You already have more training and experience than a majority of the newer Slayers. More than I did when I was Chosen." She left out the 'And people who know you and give a shit about you I didn't' that both of them could hear in her voice._

_Blade cocked his head. "True." Probably to all of the above, she figured._

_Abby'd nodded. Blade said, "We'll figure it out," and she nodded again._

Now, and after Hannibal'd gotten up, they'd discussed the Dreams and all of the information that Faith had gathered and figured out, or not figured out. Plus the brief interesting explosion when he'd been let in on Abby's Calling. Sorted through what it all meant if anything, how it might all connect, if it did. King had actually taken the revelation about Abby's slay hood pretty well - he'd known _something_ had happened with her and after Faith, had figured out a lot of the what. It was the Apocalypse thing he was _really_ having issues with.

"Ok, so let me get this straight: Slayers are connected to these 'Powers', whatever the hell they are, and they send you visions of shit you have to figure out," He snorted. "And then you're supposed to figure out what the hell to do about them."

"Yup. 'Faith LeHane, We Choose You!'" She snorted. "That's me: The Power's Psychotic Pokemon."

Abby laughed, "Ok, that's just way too bizarre a mental image. So.. 'Here's the job, have an indecipherable clue, now go end the Apocalypse'? That kinda err... sucks rocks."

Nod. "And not die. 'Not dieing' is considered a Good Thing." She considered. "And Champions. Not all Slayers get drafted for the heavy lifting stuff. Not sure why it seems to center on me 'n B."

"And I thought our life was weird" He glared at her. "Do you have any idea how fucking insane this sounds?"

She raised an eyebrow at him, "Compared to vampires, killing Dagon, scientifically created uber-vamps, and Blood-packs? Yeah. I can see how it might seem odd." She snorted.

"But... " He glowered. "Yeah. And Abby's one of you now. Wonderful." Maybe he hadn't taken it that well after all, she mused.

"She was in this before. But now she's got a bigger edge." Faith met his eyes, level.

"It was pretty big before," he grinned. "Ok. so... what's next?"

Blade mostly listened and watched, eyes lidded. He'd asked a few short, pertinent questions when she was laying it out, but after he'd leaned back and let the three of them hash it. It had taken awhile: dark was falling outside. She'd had to back up a lot, give past history and examples to explain some of the things she was describing and explaining... all the while trying to carefully figure out what to leave out to keep secrets that weren't hers to give out.

"Depends." She ticked off options on our fingers. "I thank you guys for the hospitality, and then get on my bike and go try to figure it out and stop it, leaving you out. My war really, my job, not yours. Or you decide to kick in, and we figure it out, and stop it from happening. Your town, figure you have an interest. But I don't draft people into my fights. Your choice."

Blade inclined his head slightly, acknowledging that. "But you said we're in the Dream. We're already drafted?"

She frowned and stared through a wall. "I don't know how that works. I fail, you're in deep anyway: whole fucking world is. You'd become the next line, with everything already gone to shit."

"Gone to Hell... " She met his eyes seriously. "But I ain't going to draft you. I'm giving you the choice, and fuck the damned Powers. They got me already, they don't get people I like 'just because they're handy'. Screw that. You want out, grab a plane and get as far away as possible and plan what you need to do if I don't make it. No harm, no foul. No dishonor."

He snorted, softly. "I don't abandon people to be feed for _Things_, either." Met her eyes back. "My choice? I'm in."

She should have figured he wasn't one for letting the world go to Hell on his watch, either. One of these days, she'd stop getting surprised by stuff like this. Maybe. She'd been betting on 'You ride out and go figure it out'.

Hannibal looked at both of them like they'd lost it. "Hell. I still don't believe any of this. But I never planned to live forever." Abby nodded.

"You don't get to die," Faith told him. "I'm not going to have it." She grinned. "I have it on Good Authority that I'm not allowed, so you can't check out either."

"Good to know you have 'The Power'," Blade snorted, softly. "What next?"

Faith studied him for a long while before answering, and when she did it would have sounded like a tangent to anyone not listening to the silent subtexts in the room and between her and the people here. "You're taking this awful well considering it's coming from someone who basically dropped into your lives out of the blue a couple days ago. Despite King's 'you're fucking insane' cracks - he makes sense. I blow in, drop a lot of weird crap on you, then drop a lot of wierder crap on you a couple days later about prophetic dreams and 'the end of the world', and after thinking about it a bit, 'I'm in' and 'What's next?' is all you have to say and ask?"

Blade studied her back, oblivious to Hannibal's 'sounds like a good question' smirk. "What else do we need?"

She made an exasperated sound and threw her hands up, "I don't _know!_ Maybe 'why should we trust you?'. Or... 'How do we know you're not setting us up?' Or... "

"Are you?" he returned.

"No! But I _could_ be, dammit!" She glared, "You guys don't even know me."

Hannibal smirked, "It's been a long time since I saw a conman trying this hard to unsell themselves." She glared at him. "We hunt vampires," he added. "Our suspension of disbelief got kind of elastic awhile back."

Blade settled farther into his seat and looked at her from under hooded lids. "But we do know you. Have watched how you deal with us. Listened to what you say, and what you don't say - what you say with your body when you think no one's looking." He shrugged very slightly, "You're insane and selling us your hallucination, then no cost: nothing happens. You're wrong about this, and nothing happens and no cost for the trust. You're setting us up for something... and it comes out and we deal with it."

"You won't do it _twice_," he said softly. "Takes us back to where we were: we say 'No' and kick you out. Not kicking you out it seems. So 'What next?' is all that's left."

"Beats hell out of me." She thought for a bit... "Research: strange deaths are usually a clue.. stranger than usual. _Ritual_ killings. Especially clustered. Artifacts that might be able to be used to open a rift to a Hell dimension disappearing/being stolen from elsewhere. Powerful mages or beings... maybe elderly Master vamps with large powers around? Rumours of odd arcane books or texts."

Hannibal cocked an eyebrow at her. "But you've already got people looking into all of that. What else?"

She shrugged. "Fresh eyes never hurt - might get a new perspective on it or see something that wouldn't 'click' for Wes or Giles. I can find Demon bars and hangouts. You guys know the vampire underworld around here." She grinned, "I'm not cut out for book stuff and computer research. 'Go kill shit and break things' until someone coughs up a clue's always a decent fall back plan, if you don't have any other leads. Big Bads and minions tend to get nervous when there's a Slayer and several Hunters shaking shit up and threatening to disrupt their Master Plan before it hatches. And nervous minions tend to try and kill you to get you out of the way." She grinned. "I like killin' shit and breaking things, and I'm awful hard to take out."

King snickered. "Hard part is grabbing one for questioning without killing it."

"Minions belong to someone. Even dead minions." She shrugged. "Can figure out 'Who', 'What' falls into place a lot of times. Usually, it's not any one thing that turns up the What, When, and Where. Any of the Above can do it. You just never know."

"This Watcher thing... " Abby mused, "They usually come through on this stuff? Research and support?"

Faith started to respond, opened her mouth and closed it again, thinking. "Huh. Y'know? Personally... I'm not sure? I've never really done that part of the Slayer bit. Not for real." She frowned. "My first Watcher died before I really got started. Giles was always B's... I was just the 'unwanted psycho bitch' no one wanted around."

She frowned, "Haven't really worked with Wesley since that one time, til now. And he's no longer a Watcher, anyway."

Hannibal frowned, "Sounds like he had all the training and he's still got the skills, from what you say. Not something you'd lose."

"Yeah. And picked up some new ones." She smiled at the memory of 'Marlboro Man Wesley'. "Heh. Not even really sure why he wants to have anything to do with me, after fuckup-Slayer me did the hot & cold running torture thing with him." She glowered.

Both Blade and Abby shot her a _Look_.

"What?" She asked back to it.

"Why do you do that?" Blade cocked his head.

"Do what?"

"Every time you refer to yourself, it's something sharp and nasty. 'Fuckup Slayer'. 'Psycho Bitch'. 'Psycho Slayer'. 'Screwup'." Abby said, frowning. "I'm not seeing it in what you've been saying, or what we dug up on you while you were out."

Blade nodded. "You haven't fucked up since you been here."

Faith's mouth opened and stayed there. Nothing came out - her mind went completely blank and ran in circles, stuttering. "Uhh... "

She stared at them. Hell, she knew why she did it: she'd had more psyche evals and therapy sessions while she was in lockup than she wanted to think about. Even knew the names for it. Defense mechanism: put herself down before someone else did. Make a joke about it so it wouldn't hurt. As much. But she'd gotten so used to thinking of herself that way that it never occurred to her how it sounded to other people, not that she was ever _around_ other people for long. Prison psyches didn't count: they got paid to blow smoke up her ass and tell her she was 'making changes' and shit. Other people though? She didn't want to find out that they couldn't see the diff, no matter how hard she tried.

Blow in, move out, don't touch. Get it done and get gone... before they could decide to tell _her_ to blow. Make it not matter.

Because none of the talk about redemption and change really mattered: sure, she was working on it, but she didn't think she'd paid enough yet... changed any, so she _knew_ no one else could see the diff. She didn't _like_ thinking about this stuff: because then she had to face that she hadn't put paid, could _never_ put paid to all the damage done.

Except she didn't kill and torture people any more... and she tried real hard not to hurt them, no matter all the ways they left themselves wide open for it. No matter how easy it was. She put her life on the line against the Dark, same as the others, same as Angel, Buffy... Little voice in her mind kept going around circles whispering _'But is that __enough__?' _She hadn't done all the big things, saved the Whole World, died, made enough of a difference. And that little voice went _'But Buffy did all that, and she's still fucked up.'_ She closed her mouth, finally, and told that tiny voice to piss off.

"Maybe he figures it's even after all that, and he's helping because he gives a shit," King was looking at her oddly. She wondered how the hell much of all that was going wide open across her face while she'd gone spinning. Probably too much. "And maybe he likes working with you. He's supposed to be a Watcher, maybe he _wants_ a slightly bent recovering psycho-Slayer to work with."

Abby said, "Besides. I don't think that fits any more. Maybe you should figure out what you are now."

Hannibal grinned. "_AFTER_ we save the world, natch. This isn't Star Trek TNG and we don't have time for all that touchy-feely shit this episode."

She glared at him, then snickered. "Yeah. Easy stuff now. Figure me out after."

"Stop Hell, first," Blade nodded decisively. "Daytime, research. Nights, we shake stuff and see what falls out."


	9. Chapter 9: Evil in the air

**Chapter 9: **_**"Evil in the air and thunder in the skies"**_

"How you want to do this?" Hannibal asked, checking over his weaponry. Faith looked at him sideways. Why the hell were they asking her? Their town, their team, dammit. She glanced at Blade, who was standing with his arms crossed... just watching. Waiting. No help there, dammit.

She shrugged. "K. Why don't you an' and B-man go hit the various vampire bars and hangouts and see what you can run across or shake out. You guys know that scene better'n me." She jerked her thumb at Whistler. "Me and Abs here'll hit the demon bars and stuff. I know those better, and she needs to learn where they are and what the drills are. Then we meet back here at the end of the night and pool stories, have beer, count missing body parts. Works?"

Blade nodded. "Works. Do it." He strode off towards the garage with King in tow.

Faith did a quick run down, settling her definitely unsettled mind back in the groove. Bare-midriff Ghostbusters tee, check. Black leather pants, check. Long leather coat with hidden surprises, check. Various weapons: check, check, check, checkerdy-check. Steel toed HD Faded Glory's, Check. 'Tude in place, check. Mostly. She checked her companion over: Whistler had brown leather pants and vest, long brown duster, a big handgun under her arm, short sword, and compound bow cased in her hand. Good 'nuff. Girl'd do - nice working with pros for a change.

She straddled her bike and waited while Abby did a last check on her own. "Ok... " she paused, thinking.

"These aren't 'friendlies' like Lorne gave me. I got Vi to text me a list of the known demon hangouts and demonic underworld bars in the area and on the NYC side of the bay, so it'll be new ground for me. They haven't seen much Slayer activity down here yet, I don't think, so they're not going to be 'well trained VC' if you catch my drift."

Abby snickered, nodded.

"Don't fuck around, don't take chances, don't die. If it gets hostile, kill it dead, make an impression, question the ones that _don't_ attack. Follow my lead, watch your back, cover mine." She considered, thinking things through, "I got weight just with the name, but you guys mostly concentrate on vamps, so don't count on the Nightstalker handle getting you much right at first. Gonna have to make a splash before word gets around there's a Nightstalker Slayer in the burg."

"'Don't Die'," Abby quoted. "You keep mentioning that."

"Rule Number One: Don't die," Faith replied, gazing out into the night. "Because if you die, you fail, and everything counting on you dies. Because a dead Slayer lets the monsters know they can win. Because we don't know much about what's happened since we Awakened everyone, and if there'll ever be another one Called. Because then someone has to go in and make sure it gets known that _none__ of us_ die for free, and _they_ might die making a point over your careless dead ass."

She looked at Abby and there was something ancient and inhuman gazing out of there, "Because dying's easy, girl. It's living that's hard." She held her gaze until Abby's head jerked in a nod, then looked away again.

"Spike always said 'Every Slayer has a death wish, and that's what gets them in the end'," Faith continued. "And he was right, damn his black heart."

"Spike?"

Faith nodded. "Souled vampire. Bleached blonde smartass. Authentic bad ass. Killer of at least two Slayers. Fuckin' Hero. And dead dead, now." She crossed a leg over the saddle, relaxed. "Every Slayer has a death wish. The Slayer Essence is pure predator: no remorse, no fear, no self preservation. If it takes over... we forget to watch our ass and something gets us. It comes with a cost, and that cost can kill your soul, a little at a time, until the pain and deadness gets to be too much and you go out looking for death. Death is your Gift, Abby, and your gift too: in the end it's the only thing life has left give you, and you reach out and take it."

She gave a grin that had no humour in it. "Unless you drill Rule #1 between your ears until it's a reflex."

"Heh. Any other Rules to it?"

Faith nodded. "A few. But that's the important one." She listed them off...

"Rule Number 2: Don't kill Humans, unless you're absolutely deadly certain there's no other option and it's justified.

Rule Number 3: Not all monsters are evil, but it's the way to bet. If it's not human, it's Prey. Trying to sort out whether something's good, evil, or harmless on the fly gets you dead. When in doubt, kill it.

Rule Number 4: Don't read ancient books or inscriptions out loud.

Rule Number 5: If it looks stupid and it works, it isn't stupid.

Rule Number 6: The End of the World is a Bad Thing, don't let it happen."

Abby put in: "And Number 7: Incoming fire has the right of way."

"I see you've read the handbook," Faith grinned, nodding. "And others. And all of them are modified by Rule Number One: Don't Die. Because dying makes the rest of them kind of a moot point, eh?" She looked thoughtful and then gave a small shrug, "My personal version, Rule #2 is 'Do the Job'. Everything else falls into place inside of 'Don't die' and 'Do the Job'."

Abby nodded. "You do this often? Break in new Slayers and make sure it's done right?"

"No," Faith shook her head. "A few times. And I've done a lot of gym training with 'em. I usually get them after they've had the basics."

"Ah, so I'm your first. If it kills me, I'll know who to blame," Abby put in the earplugs for her headphones, made sure her new play list was keyed up.

"Right." Faith stood and kicked her bike alive, "K', s'night, gotsa a halfapack o' stogies, heavily armed, and wearing sunglasses. Let's rock." She led the way out into the night.

**...**

Even running with Blade for the time she'd been, Whistler'd never quite seen a night like that one turned out to be. There was a lot of waterfront in Jersey City, and as it turned out, an awful lot of demon bars and hangouts tucked away hidden within it. She didn't think they quite hit all of them... but they managed quite a few. She saw things of every nightmare's description, and with the exception of vampires, only a few of them could be mistaken for human. Faith proved to be a deep well of information of habits and ways to kill things that Abby'd never even heard of, and more than willing to share it. She also proved to be on a conversational basis with things Abby'd have run screaming from, if she'd met them alone and unprepared.

Not like she'd been unskilled, even before getting involved with King and the Nightstalkers. She'd trained all her life, almost, and had been hunting vampires for years now. By the time she'd been what Faith called "Awakened", suddenly getting shot through with a burst of power and strength the likes of which she'd never felt before, she'd already had more combat experience than a lot of professional soldiers. Since, she'd gotten to where she could come close to running with Blade on an almost equal basis for strength, speed, and agility.

Faith was something else. Abby was power based on training, muscle and discipline, hard learned. Faith was an instinctive, sensual intensity wrapped around a core of pure predator. Skills and combat discipline were gilding on that core, and extension of it, rather than the source. Deadliness was ingrained in her, not a skill she'd acquired. Abby had the feeling that even if she'd never been awakened... Faith would have been like a force of nature just on intensity of sheer will.

Watching and listening to her was kind of educational, if your taste in textbooks ran to Lovecraft and Brother's Grimm...

First place they hit was an old, abandoned truck stop looking building, rusting pumps still mouldering away in front. Things went in and out, and loud, dissonant music drifted out through the doors when they did. The first idea anything inside had that they'd pulled up was when the reinforced front door blew in under the mass of the horned, scaled bouncer that Faith casually picked up and used as a knocker when he'd tried to bar their way.

She stalked in after like an amused, indolent cat, Abby prowling just behind, walking across the door and groaning thing underneath it radiating unconcern.

Abby had been expecting a scene like out of Mos Eisley cantina, but the majority of the clientèle looked like large, tired, steel workers, truckers, and dock hands Only with horns, claws, scales, and glasses of indefinable substances in their hands rather than beers.

Faith glanced around casually into the ominous silence and headed towards a table at the back with a small cluster of beings at it.

A pair of humanoid looking beings stepped out to bar their path when they got near, one male, one female and both with fangs and glowing eyes, reaching under their lapels. Faith brought her sword out from under her coat and decapitated the female in one smooth motion, sidestepping past the male and elbowing him off-balance toward Abby. Whistler activated her UV-arc and brought it up through him from crotch to shoulder in a single slice that left dust and ash drifting down. Faith stopped before the table, sword extended, point at the jeweled looking eye of the scaled toad like being sitting there, remaining two bodyguards behind him frozen in place suddenly with their hands still inside their jackets.

Toadthing moved his head slightly from one side to another, desisting when that gleaming point never left it. Faith smiled, gently. "Tell everyone to ease off." That purring voice suggested she didn't care much, either way.

Her other arm moved suddenly, blurring, and a silvered 8" throwing spike grew out of the forehead of the bartender, who'd been raising a shotgun just above the bar top at the time. Abby, who'd had her gun out covering the rest of the table by then, noticed she'd never even _looked_ in that direction - before, during, or after the throw.

"Ok, so who the fuck are you?" Toadthing asked, making a slight motion with one hand. Bodyguards brought their hands carefully back out, empty, and the rest of the bar eased carefully back into chairs.

"Venkmann. My associate is Spengler." Faith grinned. "What, the chest emblem didn't clue you?"

"I like to know who I'm dealing with," he rasped. "Before we go much further."

Faith cocked her head slightly. "Faith."

"The Dark Slayer, huh?" Toadthing gave no reaction whatsoever, but the two childer behind him stiffened, eyes slightly wider. "Heard you were in town again. Whattayou want?"

"Right now?" Faith paused, looked considering. Abby tried to watch everything without showing she was doing so. "To know whether you'd like to keep living."

Toadthing stared at her, ignoring the blade point. He appeared to be giving it careful thought. "I wouldn't mind. Depends on what it takes."

"Cool. Good attitude." Faith hooked a chair around with her foot, propped a boot up on it, and rested her sword forearm casually across the upraised knee. "Let's dicker."

"Something big's brewing. I want to know what. Business will be absolutely _dead_ in this town until I find out, if you catch my drift." She grinned, eyes reflecting silver in the bar light, slid a card across the table with her off hand. "Let me know anything you hear, and once I shut it down, I'm gone. Fuck me around and you're dead."

"What if I don't know anything and I don't care to dig around?" The rasping voice was casual, curious sounding.

Faith's left hand flickered again and a stake appeared in the chest of one of the bodyguards momentarily, before it and he dusted. His companion went partway into game-face and froze, stiffening. "Then I come back, kill you and everything in this place, and burn it to the ground as an object lesson," she said in a bored, conversational tone.

His eyes narrowed slightly, "I thought we were bargaining?"

"We did. That was it. Take it or croak." She spun on her heel and headed for the open hole where the door used to be, eyes riveted to her back. Abby backed out after, covering everything. Not a single being moved.

Outside and a number of blocks away, Faith looked over at Abby after pulling into a parking lot. "What was the light-bow thing? Other than 'nasty' and 'effective'." She lit up a cigar and stretched.

Whistler drew it off of her belt and showed her how it unfolded and activated. "Called a 'UV-arc'. Bow shaped, but the string's a concentrated UV/full-sunlight-spectrum frequency laser set. Cuts through almost anything, and ashes vampires like nobodies business."

"_Wicked_ cool." Faith's eyes widened. "Light-bow, huh? Jedi Abby." Abby giggled, then sobered.

"Yeah. Only one of them now though, plus parts to keep it fixed." She sighed. "We lost our main tech-head dealing with Drake and the vampire nation."

"Ouch. Sorry. Happens like that, a lot." Faith made a sympathetic face. "Ko. Ready to move on?"

Place number two was a former topless bar. The old name and the ubiquitous Live! Girls! Live! could still barely be read on the faded sign in the parking lot, although the new name read "Hellkitties" over the door. Faith left a pile of dust where the bouncer'd been, threw a five at the femaleish looking thing behind the cage for the cover, and sauntered in.

There were dancers on the stages scattered around the place dancing to music, but none of them looked completely human, and not all of them had only two breasts. All of them did have g-strings filled with dollars, and drooling male-ish looking things clustered around hooting: showing that demon strip clubs weren't that much different from human ones.

Again, a pair of bodyguard looking types in suits, these purplish and scaled, moved to intercept as they headed towards a table near the back with a group of more important types settled at it. The thugs proved to be completely incapable of dealing with a quick, dark-haired blur that tumbled between them, leaving a pair of knives buried in their diaphragms as she rolled to her feet past them. The two behind the table also proved to be incapable of dealing with a slender leather clad girl with a bow who left a silver tipped arrow in each one's eye and came to a stop with her bow trained on the forehead of a third.

The.. being... in the head position at the table was a humanoid gray skinned thing with orange eyes, and wasn't nearly as imperturbable as the toad thing had been. There was a similar looking being standing just behind his right shoulder, and self-important looking beings or other types around the table in an arc.

Greyskin half stood and snarled as Faith came to a halt in front of the table, sword level with his adams apple. "Do you have any idea who you've just annoyed, human?"

Faith looked quizzical, relaxed and loose. "Guess? I'd say a table full of this end of J-City's demon-mob heads and their toadies. But I could be wrong. If so... " she snickered. "Ehrmm... oopsie?" She inclined her head slightly. "Name's Faith."

Several people at the table and nearby stiffened slightly. Grey-skin came closer to looking apoplectic than Abby'd have guessed it was possible for something like that to look. His eyes narrowed as he said, very quietly, "Your name is _corpse_," and started to motion something.

Faith's smiled gently and asked, "Is that your consiglierrie?" She inclined her head slightly to the one just behind him, who nodded fractionally, eyes never leaving her.

Her hand blurred and a spike stuck out of the seated one's eye. She met and locked the eyes of the standing gray skinned being. "Congratulations on your promotion."

He merely met her eyes back, levelly, and said "Seems somewhat abrupt."

"Could be brief, too." She swept her gaze around the table. "Faith. Slayer. My associate here is the new Sheriff in town. This is now a business meeting. _Slayer_ business."

Her eyes returned to the newly promoted demon's. "Apocalypse season's here. I want to know what's going down. Nothing, but _nothing_, moves through this town until I do. You run across anything I should know, make sure it gets to me." She tossed another card on the table.

"You don't, and I'll devote whatever time I have before the world ends to making sure you don't live to enjoy it." She met eyes around the table. "Have a nice night, gentlemen."

They both backed out that time, watching carefully as they left...

**...**

Wash, rinse, repeat. Next several places were variants of the first. They left bodies and piles of dust behind, threats, soft voiced promise, and moved on to the next. They fought their way out of two of them, leaving wreckage and piles of corpses. Abby was starting to wonder if they were going to live to see morning. She was also, she was surprised to suddenly realize, having the time of her life.

"I thought you said Rule 3 was 'When in doubt, kill it?'" She asked as she pulled in behind Faith a couple of blocks from the next target. "We're leaving a lot of demons behind us."

Faith looked over at her. "When you three are hunting, do you kill every vampire you encounter? No matter how big the nest or lair you walk in on?"

She looked thoughtful. "Not always."

"Right." She leaned against a doorway. "Why... ?"

Abby shrugged. "Sometimes we're hunting for information. Sometimes we're looking for someone specific, and don't want to spook them."

Faith nodded. "And Rule One always modifies." She gestured back towards the places they'd already been. "We're looking to shake things, not hunting. If we'd tried to kill everything in every bar, we'd probably be dead by now. Instead, we made an impression, got in, got out, and left the word spreading: 'there's Slayers in town, and they're dangerous'. Called 'showing the flag'."

She held up a hand and ticked off items: "Rule 3a: dead demons don't talk. Rule 3b: you can't kill everything. Rule 3c: sometimes you have to build a rep before they take you seriously."

Abby nodded. "So... you think we'll get any information from this?"

Faith shrugged, "No. Possibly. Hard to tell, but I doubt if anything will come out of this directly. But - YNK: You Never Know." Her phone went off, the council one, and she glanced at the display. "Fuck."

She moved off a step and flipped it open. "B. Not a good time."

"What the hell are you doing, Faith?" Buffy sounded annoyed.

"Working. Wanna call back later?"

"No. I want to do this now, Faith."

"_Fine_." Faith sighed. "Go for it."

"Robin says you freaked and put him in the hospital for no real reason."

"Oh, really?" Faith rolled her eyes. Flat voice, "And what did Giles and Vi tell you?"

"I'm asking you, not them."

"Cool. So you blew off the two people who actually got the straight skinny, Wood gave you a sad one-sider, and you decided to call me and tell me what _really_ happened from the Buffyworld perspective, huh?" Faith's voice dripped sarcasm. "Want me to apologize, go kiss Wood and make it all better so we can do it all again in a few?"

"No, I want you to tell me what really happened."

"I told G and Vi. They told you." Faith's voice got soft. "B, you either trust me enough to figure I gave it to them straight, and what Vi saw was level - or you don't. Figure it out."

"So you had a spat, hurt Wood, and rode out and left us a mess to clean up. Again."

Abby couldn't hear the other side of the call, only Faith's, but she saw Faith wince and then her eyes go narrow and colder than they had at any of the demons they'd terrorized earlier.

"Oh, yeah?! Lemme get this straight:" She laughed, bitterly. "_Robin_ slept with a barely 18 year old student, but I left you a mess, huh. Wood couldn't keep his in his pants around his students, but I left you a mess to clean up."

"That's not what - "

"Gee, thanks ever so, 'Sister Slayer'," she cut across the other woman. "Xander caught Woodie in the gym with another student months ago, and you guys blew him off and shipped him to Africa, but I left you a mess to clean up. Woodie sleeps with the students under his care, but _I_ left _**you**_ a mess to clean up. My soon-to-be-ex boyfriend gets annoyed at getting called on his shit and takes a swing at me, but I left _you_ 'a mess to clean up'."

"... "

She sniffed, "I'm all like, tears and shit now, B. I think I'm actually all feeling your pain and shit. Not."

"But, that's not it... " Faith cut over Buffy again, too angry to let her finish what 'it was'.

Faith cut across her, voice a harsh whisper. "Yes. It. Is." She paused. "So much for 'The Chosen Two, Sister Slayers' after the First, eh? Didn't mean jack shit. No trust there. One of your fucking decisions came apart and broke it off in me, but I left _you_ a mess and ruined your perfect Buffyvision with like, reality and shit."

Buffy spluttered, "... "

"No, B," she continued, on a roll. "I came the fuck home after three weeks on the road, ready to kick back and rejoin what I thought was a relationship. Found my 'loving boyfriend' in our fucking bed with a barely 18 year old mini-Slay. And when I chewed him out over it, he took a swing at me. I left so I wouldn't lose it further and hurt anyone until I cooled down. Like maybe that fucked up kid he was boffing. If that's not what you wanted to hear, too damn bad. Way. It. Is."

"... "

"If the peroxide hasn't killed too many braincells yet, grab a fucking ment, _'sis'_: This. Ain't. About. You. Ain't about me either." She snorted. "It's about you guys putting someone who has no business in charge of a bunch of girls entrusted to you and ignoring the warning signs. And about you not keeping an eye on him while I'm off all over the country more time than I'm in doing _IWC Council business_ instead of _actually managing_ the girls, and I _can't_ be keeping an eye on it. Because some months, I ain't fucking there but maybe three days out of every 20."

Faith paused, "Don't put this shit solely on my shoulders, B. I didn't make this 'mess'. I just walked into the kitchen and stepped in it after it was there."

There was a long silence on the other end, followed by, "Not quite what I had in mind... "

"Yeah, I know," Faith sighed. "You just had an 'oh-_of-__course_-the-psycho-slayer went off again' moment and shot your mouth off without thinking, and without listening to the people who had a clue. You just happened to have a blonde moment when I wasn't in the mood to pad your corners right now."

She continued, "I sent G a message so he could get it covered. I made sure the school was covered before I left. I did the responsible things. Vi's pretty good at admin. My assistant's been handling most of the training when I'm out on the road troubleshooting. She's ready to move up. It's not like I left a huge hole there for you to rush in and fill."

"But we need to... " Buffy started.

"Y'know what?" Faith snorted. "While you're figuring out what you _did_ have in mind and what 'we _need_ to', I've got something going here. I told Giles I quit. Find a replacement, for both me and Woodie. Later, B: I got people to do and things to kill." She paused. "I'll be in touch."

click

"Grrrr. Twank." She shut the phone and turned it off. She gave Abby a bright, false smile. "Don't ask. Let's go kill something."

**...**

If Abby had thought that Faith was intense and dangerous earlier... she was pure, concentrated predator from that point on. They hit the next six bars and a couple of lairs in a whirlwind of deadliness and a sudden thunderclap of violence. Faith walked in, killed, delivered her message to what was left, and left large numbers of very, very quiet demons scattering in their wake. Abby concentrated on making sure Faith didn't die - she was far past watching her own back. Faith killed without hesitation or mercy... and things that should have been as far past being intimidated by the small woman as a doberman was by a hamster, froze into stillness and did their best to avoid notice til she went by. Or told her what she asked in very quiet voices, often over the body parts of their recent associates.

When they paused finally for a cold drink and a breather, she was torn between awe and sheer terror of the woman on the other bike.

"'The Thing That The Monsters _Fear_'." She said, softly.

Faith looked over at her and smiled, softly. "You thought it was mostly bravado when I said it, huh?"

"No... no.. well... " She looked embarrassed

Faith grinned, "C'mon. Enough." She put her bike in gear and headed out, away from the trail of demon bars they'd been hitting.

She wandered seemingly aimlessly for a bit, then pulled into an abandoned construction site. Parked, said "C'mon", and without a word leapt. Grabbed a girder and pulled herself up in a blur of movement, swinging out and up from handhold to foothold like she had eyes in her hands and feet. Abby gritted her teeth and followed, surprising herself when she was able to match the stunt.

She hit the top and swung up and onto the scaffold there, settling in lightly atop a girder. Balanced lightly on the balls of her feet, twelve stories up, unconcerned about the sheer drop or the smallness of her perch. Abby settled in beside her on the somewhat more solid scaffold top.

Faith waved her hand. "Look. Listen. Extend your senses as wide as they can go. Hear it. Feel it."

A refinery, lit up and sparkling with lights, belched smoke and shot gouts of flame upwards into the night some distance off, like some demonic city. Police and ambulances wailed, off in the night. Voices came to her, faint on the wind. Salt air filled with the scent of sewage hit her nose. Building lights, headlights, and windows glowed through the streets. Heat lightning flared, far off, and a low rumble made its way to her ears after a time. Flared again.

She heard a soft sound and realized it was Faith's voice, singing softly into the wind...

After listening for a few minutes, "Meatloaf," Abbey said, quietly. "A rock and roll Hell where nothing's ever worth the cost." Faith nodded.

"Ala LeHane. Jim Steinman could have been talking about all of this when he wrote that." Faith nodded her head toward the night and the lights. "Lights, demons, killers. Night sounds. Voices. Bodies. Heat and evil. Death." Her voice was soft. "All of the things that they don't know about, and don't want to know."

"And where ever we are, and where ever we go - there's always gonna be some light." Faith looked at Abby, and her eyes were soft. "Or some dark. Our choice."

She snorted, gently. "And you're one of _us_ now. The Things that the Monsters Fear." She continued on, quietly. "And we're just as fucked up as anyone else. We're not heroes, we're not perfect... we're just among the only things that stands between what you saw earlier tonight... and those who have no real hope of dealing with them on their terms. A little bit of the light, in the dark and the bad."

She turned, graceful on the small space, and Abby saw that her eyes were wet. "And we got started because some ancient assholes poured power into a young girl, and we got chosen because of no real virtues of our own... just because we happened to have something the Slayer spirit could hook onto. Get used by the Powers as chew toys." She paused. "We fuck up and we accidentally kill people, do it by purpose sometimes, hurt each other, hurt _ourselves_, drive off our friends, and we fight and we die. And we fuck up relationships and break things... just like regular people, because that's what we _are_. Human. With a little something extra."

"But the thing that makes it worthwhile, makes it worth something... " She paused, "is that we let the monsters know that they don't own the night, and they don't get past us to harm the defenseless without a cost."

"'A haunt is a place where animals come to feed'." She looked back out over the lights and movement again. "Steinman was wrong. Some things are _ever_ worth the cost. We let the monsters know they don't feed on those under our protection. That something more dangerous stands in the way."

"Us," Abby said. Faith nodded. "Blade. Hannibal... "

"And Angel, Wes, Giles, Xander... " Faith said, quietly. "And far from enough other all too human champions." There was a long silence, then she said, "It took me a long time to figure it out. I screwed up a lot along the way. Still do. But I'm getting better... You have a chance to do it better than I did."

"I don't know if I can do the things you did tonight," Abby's voice was just as soft. "I lied a bit earlier: I'm not that much different from Hannibal and Blade. I've been fighting these things since before my father died. This is a war, and up until recently, humans have been losing. Still can... I'm a part of it, and I like it. I'm good at it. But the type of things you deal with are maybe past what I can handle."

"Sure you can. Just takes experience and knowhow. And guts. And a little bit of don't-give-a-fuck." She straightened suddenly, flipping up, back, and off of the girder end to land lightly in a crouch next to Abby, plywood flexing under her weight. "You're one of the strongest newly Awakened I've seen, as strong as Vi or Rona or any of the Sunnydale potentials. You got training, skills, and nerve."

She took out one of those cards, scribbled something on the back, handed it to Abby. "Keep that. You decide you want to meet the others and find out more about all of this, give that number a call. Ask for Vi and tell her that Faith sent you." She paused. "But don't cut off your friends and family. I never had that. You do. It's important."

"I'll think about it." Abby nodded and put it away. "Hearing your end of some of the conversations with those people doesn't make me want to rush out and join them."

"Ha. Not surprised," Faith stared off into the distance. "Don't... judge by me. We all have... histories there. Lots of pain and bad on both sides." She glanced sideways at the girl. "Vi's good people. Dawn. Xander. Giles, when he pulls his head out of his ass. B's a pain, but she knows her shit." Faith shrugged. "Aren't any manuals for this. We're making it up as we go along. Slayer's and watchers been around for a long time, but not like this, now. We're... unprecedented."

_'Yes, you are,'_ Abby thought. What she said was: "Are we likely to run into any of the others out here?"

Faith shrugged. "Possible. Majority of the NYC slayer group concentrate on demon and vamp haunts on the other side of the river, and on keeping an eye on the big hot spots like the Hellfire Club."

"Hellfire? I thought that was a myth."

"Naw. It's real. Secret society of demonic mages, warlocks, businessmen, and politicians and lawyers. Imagine Vi and the others are doing what we're doing: shaking them up and trying to get a line on what's coming down." Faith shrugged, "But if when you guys are out working, you come across a group of heavily armed young women, maybe with one or two normal people along, going into the types of places we hit tonight... stay clear unless you have a real good reason to get involved."

Abby raised an eyebrow and Faith said "Friendly fire don't discriminate. Ain't no such thing as 'friendly' fire. Blue-on-Blue misunderstandings happen too easy."

"Ah." She nodded. "Yeah."

Faith rose gracefully. "C'mon. We're wasting moonlight." She swung over the edge and made her way down more carefully than they'd come up, Whistler following.


	10. Chapter 10: Gots like, facets and stuff

**Chapter 10: **_**"Got like, facets and stuff."**_

Last place they hit was Perditions, partly to give Abby a view of the non-hostie scene, and partly to let Faith wind down a bit. She really wasn't expecting any info there, yet.

She gave the bartender a not-unfriendly wave as she came in, a couple of vampires a Look that caused them to decide to finish their blood-toddies and leave abruptly, and led Abby off to the back table. The brown skinned demon smiled wide with far too many teeth as they reached his table. His bodyguards/button men nodded, but remained expressionless.

"Slayer." He set his fork down in a plate of what looked-and-smelled suspiciously like lasagna. Faith's stomach growled. He looked at Abby. "Slayer-s."

Faith smiled. "This is the new Sheriff in town once I move on. Try to not let her get broken. I'd be displeased."

He nodded and put out a hand. "Vince Kronenen. Call me Vince."

Abby raised an eyebrow, but put her own hand out. The night's previous experiences hadn't prepared her for the cautiously friendly vibes given off by both this demon and the bartender. "Whistler. Pleezeta meetcha." She made it come out not-unfriendly, but put just a touch of sarcasm into it. The demon's grip was warm, and he didn't make it a strength show.

"Heh. I like her, she's got attitude," He glanced at Faith. "Sit. Something to eat?"

She pulled over a chair, and gave his plate a dubious look, raised an eyebrow. He laughed, "Beef, chicken, pasta. Swear."

"Cool. I could eat."

He made a motion to one of his err... men, and held up two fingers. The button-thing nodded and got up, heading for the back. "We have a pretty good Italian kitchen in the back. Not for customers usually, but I like to eat good, and like my help and guests to do so."

Faith nodded as the bartender brought over a couple of dark beers. She twisted off the top of one, and took a deep swig. "Ahhh."

"Heard you've been having a busy night, Slayer."

"Naw. I've been having fun," she grinned. "They've been hopping."

He grinned back. "Was thinking on calling." She raised an eyebrow and he went on. "Dunno if it fits in anywhere, but rumor has it that the Hellmouths at Chicago and Cleveland spiked recently, and then died down to lower levels. Several days apart. That mean anything?"

"Hrmm... " Faith considered. "No idea." She made a mental note to check with Vi and confirm it. And run it past Wesley. "But it's something."

He shrugged. "You said 'anything'."

"'Preciate it."

Food came after a bit, and they passed the time with small talk. A week ago, Abby'd have found 'small talk' with a demon to be beyond bizarre - still did - but it felt weirdly comfortable once she learned to damp down the tingle along her nerve endings. Threaten and kill demons, eat, chat, joke, and drink with other ones. 'Vince' seemed charming and personable in a brutal sort of way... not what she would have expected from the type of things she'd seen Faith kill with remorseless lethality earlier.

And the brown skinned thing seemed to be oddly comfortable sitting and joking with someone who'd walked into one place earlier and left it uninhabited by anything of his kind except the dead and dying.

After a time, Faith pushed her chair back and said, "We're motoring. Thanks for the tip."

"Hey - least I could do. You left me a LOT of business opportunities to pick up tonight." He winked. "Stay tight, Slayer. Don't die."

"No worries. Ruins your day. Laterz."

When they got back to the compound, Blade and King were still out. Faith yawned, stretched, and stated she was going to grab a shower. They agreed they could trade tales with the others after they woke up. Abby thought about it... but decided her questions on Vince and Perditions could wait. She had a lot of other, more important stuff, in her head to sort out, anyway.

Getting ready for bed, she wondered at herself. Getting almost as bad as B with the long speeches. But she'd never really had anyone to talk to about this stuff before... not really. Faith hit the mattress after showering and was out almost before her eyes shut.

_The Dream was always the same. She'd been through enough repetitions that she was coming to recognize that, by now. They were trying to hold the Gates of Hell, keep them from opening all the way. Making sure the crunchies made it clear before those Gates came open all the way and all freaking Hell broke loose. And losing the battle: there was too damned many of them, not enough of __them__, and the fucking winches were too heavy for mortal hand and sinew to turn. She screamed in frustrated rage and whirled and slashed and killed, not enough, __never__ enough, but it made the hellspawn mutter and swirl away until the press of their fellows forced them back into the range of her blades to die. She was the Thing the Darkness Feared, and they damned well knew it and didn't want a piece._

_More were coming though, bigger bads that didn't know enough to fear, and the best they could hope for was that their loved ones made use of the time they bought and made it clear._

_She had armor somehow, of black. All dark leather plate, with chain and gilded with gold and metal trim. Damned good thing, for even with it she was cut and bleeding from a dozen places by the things it hadn't stopped. Moeller axe and darkling sword whirled in a deadly blur of steel and ichor, dancing as they bit._

_That face again, glimpsed through the dark and the mean and the bloody, curious eyes meeting her own. And then was gone, a knot of pit-things roiling between with Spike in the middle of it giving tooth and claw and blade back to them for all he was worth. Obviously having the time of his unlife, all the while. Damn' Powers. She was going to have to tell them they need to put labels on their puppet strings._

_But not now, never now. No time for that and there wouldn't be time, ever, if they went down. She wiped blood from her eyes with the back of a hand, and drove herself back to it, sword and axe blurring..._

_Giles pushed his glasses back up on his nose, hair wild. Then went back to beating demonlings to death with the stump of a shattered crossbow. Not Giles. Ripper. Having wayyy too much damned fun for any librarian. And then a huge head, no - __three__ - canine and scaled, came thrusting up through the gap in the Gate, clawed feet splattering hellings and defenders alike. She leaped into the gap, not sure what the fuck to do about it, but game-all for trying._

_Abby pushed in beside her, that damned UV-Arc slicing through a tree trunk leg and drawing a hell shattering howl from the thing. Looking a little white around the edges: hell on wheels for vamps, but this whole demons and 'Stopping-the End-of-All' thing had her a bit wigged. She scraped up reassurance she didn't feel and shoved it into a blazing grin and said, "Welcome to your first Apocalypse, kiddo. Don't die: I hear it absolutely __ruins__ your fucking day."_

_"Are they __always__ like this?" She gasped out, slicing the forked tongue out of a snapping head, ducking teeth._

_Faith narrowed her eyes, buried a blade haft deep in the brain of a head that dipped too low as she leapt over it. It shrieked like a dying locomotive and the lights went out in the eyes. "Naw. Apoco-scale of one to ten, this one's about... a 12.5." She ducked, flashed a smirk at the girl. "But I hear they get worse the longer you last"_

_She laughed, spattered with blood and ichor. They'd lost sight of Blade and King, long ago. Knew they still lived, from the slayer feel. "You are fucking Insane!"_

_She jerked her head towards the feeling non-combatants. "Goes with the Calling. We fight and die, so they can live." She leapt and slashed again, slicing a long gash across a massive throat, dropping another massive head onto the ground. Blocking just a bit more of the gap: buying that much more bloody space that someone else didn't have to die holding. "It's not just a Job, it's no pay and all the demons you can kill. Double your misery back if you're not satisfied."_

_She stepped back, absently decapitated a spawnling that tried to scramble over a head and past. Nodded decisively. "But it's damned fucking satisfying."_

_Blade made his re-entry then, burying sword with a full body-strength strike into a remaining head and dropping it into the gap. Ripping it free and standing, rolling his shoulders with a growl. She jumped up on the head, from there to the high mound of hairy scaled shoulders. Looked out over the terraced depths of The Pit and the roiling waves of hellspawn still coming._

_"We gotta close those damned Gates," She slumped, massively tired, and no rest for the wicket in sight._

_"I'm open to suggestion."_

_"Heh. Me too.."_

_She could feel that damned sword from here. Waves of power roiling off of it, as black as the hell spawned metal of its forging. Hungry. And the albino that wielded it, weaving it in slow arcs of warning that cleared a space not even hellspawn wanted to venture near. They didn't want to Know. She shuddered as that ravenous power flowed past her, licked her soul and yearned for a deeper taste. Beyond it, dwarven strength added itself to the windlass, and that of a big, big man with more than Human strength and all-too-Human soul. And the winched __turned__, just a fraction - and one of the Gates creaked an inch more shut. Hellspawn wailed in dismay and surged forward, to be met by a wave of mini-Slays and all too mortal, all-too-spent heroes._

_A rare break in the killing field revealed dark leather-woman, sans balls of light, arguing with a lean, muscular looking fellow. Black and gray in fairly archaic pattern covered him, with a heavy-bladed rapier at his hip. A pair of winged lizards with far too intelligent eyes rode on his shoulders, and there was a sense of far too many weapons concealed under that cloak. She couldn't make out their words over the sounds of combat..._

_And He was there, 'I'm still fine so the World's ok' smirk intact in spite of the dripping ichor covering his blade arm to the shoulder, and the bone-deep, soul-deep tired in his laughing eyes. A nod and a sigh, a rolling of the shoulders. "Other one's not going to shut from here," he mused to the elf. He locked eyes with hers. "You with?"_

_She nodded. Why the hell not? "Who the fuck __are__ you, mister?"_

_"I'm not the Cheese. And you're still not moving your buns."_

_"Bastard."_

_She __almost__ saw it, then, and then waking snatched it out of her mind's eye's grasp..._

"Sum total of fuck-all abides," she mumbled. Sat up wild eyed. "What?"

"Jeeze," groaning. "I'm really beginning to hate this."

Waayyyyyyyyy too early to be up after last night, but no chance of getting to sleep again. She made coffee, ate, and sat browsing news for awhile. Cleaned and sharpened her weapons. Called Vi to confirm the tidbit on the Hellmouths spiking, exchanged some discussion on the latest dream, and then both hung up with a growl of shared frustration. Called Wes and filled him in, making sure she hit every detail, cut the call short on any of the usual banter.

Data data everywhere, and not a clue in sight. Blue sky pieces all. Dammit.

Dammit to hell, for that matter... and wasn't that all too close to the possible for comfort? She growled and lost herself in a frenzy of katas and weapon drills in the gym.

She was almost glad when her phone went off while she was testing the upper limits of Blade's weight machine. Not the council phone, but her new Trac. She glance at the call-ID and hit the answer button.

"Little-D. What's up?"

The girl sniggered on the other end. "Oh... other than me and everything even semi-sane within a hundred mile radius digging foxholes and pulling them in behind us to keep out of the blast radius, not much."

Snork. "B's having a ment, huh? And you can tell from the smoke and sparks that it, like, shorted something?"

splutter "Clairvoyance now, huh? 'Swami Fai sees all'? What the hell did you say to her last night, anyway?"

"Didn't take clair-V," Faith shrugged. "Gave her a reality check. She called. We had a short sharp chat and only one of us enjoyed it. Clue: it wasn't her."

"Ha. That'd do it. Sometimes reality and my sister both have sharp corners that don't mesh." Dawn laughed. "You ok?"

"No. Now I'm frustrated and pissed. Had another dream last night, and woke up just when I think it was starting to click." Faith sighed. "Driving me buggy."

"Short walk. No need to drive."

"Thanks ever so." She grinned. "You call for something, or just wanted to send your last will to someone before big-sis paves you over while she's what we laughingly call 'thinking things through'?"

"Wanted to see if you had anything yet," Dawn sighed. "Genius here drawing blanks so far."

"Join the Club. Wes and Fred aren't having any joy either." Faith snorted. "Looks like the Finest Minds in Universe are leaving it to Deadliest Babe in Leather to figure. We're allll dooooooommed," she intoned.

Laugh, "Naw. Something will break. Vi shot me the info you snagged on the Hellmouths spiking. It checks: both of them suddenly put out a lot more power, according to the people there, and then suddenly died back down to less than a quarter of the intensity they'd had before. Almost like someone fired them up, drained them, and shut them down. Briefly drew lots of vamps and demons, they've been hopping. But no signs of who, and no rituals performed at either."

"Hrrmmm... " Faith frowned. "That possible?"

"Shouldn't be." Dawn sighed. "But so far nothing about this matches anything we know as 'should be possible'. Describe the Dream?"

"Hrrm. Waiting for people to wake up so we can trade tales and events, brainstorm. Shouldn't be much longer... " She thought. "Why don't I get Wes to shoot you the detailed descriptions of all of them over the wire? He's got them all so far."

"Works. I like detailed data, even when it doesn't make sense. Want me to let you go?"

"Yah. Best." Faith nodded. "Laters."

Hrrrm. Occurred to her that for someone who's 'lone wolfing it', she'd been spending a lot of time having conversations. And that might bear having a ment on sometime. She snorted, and found a place to plug in her laptop.

She spent most of the rest of the morning into early afternoon jotting down details from all of the Dreams, and all of what pitiful little data they'd encountered into a document file, and then arranging and rearranging it into lists. Not really working at anything - just the computer equivalent of 'thinking out loud'. Moving stuff around and seeing where it fits, what kind of images it jelled, if any. She wasn't anything close to a computer wiz, or a 'hacker', not like Dawn or Fred... but she got by as far as the basic stuff. And this was pretty basic.

She was staring off into space, not-watching a movie on one of the satellite channels when the others started drifting in. One pot of coffee ahead of them already. Hannibal waved, grunted, and went to start another pot, sipping the dregs of the previous one while he waited for it to drip. Abby coming in shortly after, yawning. Blade ambled in a bit later, looking annoyingly far too wide awake for someone who'd just got up. She passed the time between staring at the computer screen, and quietly watching them go about their morning routines.

Watching the easy familiarity and almost visible _connectedness_ there was both all too comfortable and gave her a pang in the gut, almost out of nowhere, that she didn't want to think about. _'oh. So that's what family looks like. I didn't know.'_ She swallowed it away with cold coffee and went back to work. Not important.

They traded information and events from the previous night, catching everyone up. Faith let Abby carry most of the effort of relating their end of the night's work, interjecting only to provide details Abby'd missed, or her impressions of things that the girl didn't have the background to interpret. She caught-and-ignored the occasional glances of near disbelief King slipped at her during Abby's recital, at times when he thought she wasn't watching. Blade and King's night sounded like it'd pretty well paralleled theirs, minus a few events. She picked up after, relating the latest installment from Slayervision.

After, they'd mused around on various ways it might all click together, and then broke to do separate things. Blade wandered out to where ever it was he went doing things in the day, while Abby went to the computer banks and started searching. Faith went back to staring at her lists and document screen, trying to make sense out of them. Gave it up.

Finally wandered over to where King'd settled in at his workspaces, taking apart and working on the firearms collection. Not picking things up and being a 'fuckwith' today out of boredom, just watching him work.

_'Man thinks with his hands,'_ went through her mind. She lost herself for a time, watching the sure, deft, precise movements. She'd always enjoyed seeing someone who was good, doing what they were good at. It startled her when he suddenly asked her, "See anything that interests you?"

Brrr. _'Get out of my head, King,'_ she thought.

"Lots," she said. "But nothing that really grabs me there." She made an encompassing gesture across the table. "Never really been gun people, y'know?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Not a hopolophobe, obviously, though. Don't tell me: 'Guns are bad, should be banned!' But swords and knives are like, different and shit." He laughed.

She snorted. "Put your right-wing back in your pants, La Pierre. Didn't say I didn't like them. Just said I'd never had much use for them."

"Heh. Down, Quigley." He grinned, unoffended. "And it'd be Cooper - Wayne La Pierre's a sellout. NRA's for losers who think you need 'permission' for Rights. So... not much use? What then?"

She shrugged, "Never been around guns much. Never had anyone show me anything about them. Never really have fired one much." She looked pointedly at the one he was disassembling, "And I know enough about them to know that not knowing makes it all too easy to accidentally hurt yourself or someone else. Knowledge is Power, what you don't know about can hurt you. Or someone else."

He nodded, "Ok, I was wrong. That's a good attitude."

She quirked an eyebrow then. Wouldn't have figured him for someone who could toss out an 'I was wrong' that casual, like it meant nothing. She nodded. "'Sides. For a lot of what I deal with, guns aren't much use. Bullets only piss them off."

He did cock an eyebrow then, leaning back with his arms folded across his chest and eying her.

"What?"

He shook his head. "Been around you for what, several days now? You've watched us working? I _know_ you're not dumb, Faith, no matter the act you give out."

"Huh?" She boggled. Made a conscious effort to bite down something sarcastic, and folded her arms across her chest and regarded him back. "So explain it to me, Watson."

"You know we use guns, right? Me, Abby, Blade. According to Abby's recap of last night, you saw a number of demons carrying firearms, yes?"

She nodded, slowly. "Yes... ?"

"You figure that what... majority of demons in that underworld are going to be just like human mobsters in some ways, right: they deal with humans, but the majority of their violence is going to be 'Scumbag Kills Scumbag, No Humans Involved', other demon mobsters, right?" He nodded. "Think they're going to bother lugging around something that doesn't work? Organized crime isn't stupid, human or supernatural."

She wrinkled her forehead. Made sense. "K. Never really thought it through, I guess. So what're you telling me?"

He cocked his head, considering. "Ok... why do Slayers mostly use melee weapons?"

"Crossbows, bows, and throwing stuff too, but yeah... Hrrmm." She thought about it, looking inside and examining her own preferences she'd never really thought about, trying to work out the 'why's' behind them. "Ok... " She ticked off on her fingers. "We're trained that way, most of us. We have an affinity for weapons and hand-to-hand: like I said, we can pick up combat styles and weapons just by watching techniques, or with only a bit of instruction. Plus... I'm not sure what the slayer essence is, but I know it is predator: it seems to like the 'up close and personal, get into the guts and gore thing'. If we don't keep control, we fall into that too, lose our brains. No thought, just 'Rend. Tear. Beat. Kill.'"

She paused, then continued. "And like I said, bullets don't really work on a lot of things. So watchers concentrate on what works, and train us in that."

He snorted, "Sounds like from what you've said, for some pretty smart guys, a lot of Watchers don't use their damned brains much."

"Heh." She laughed. "I won't argue." She thought for a moment, "And from a few things I gathered, there's a theory that we're not supposed to use modern weapons, because that ups the stakes and upsets the balance, so lore has it that there was an agreement long ago to keep things on a more medieval level. No arms race." She remembered Wes using a shotgun in that wild hunt for Angelus...

"Ok... " He looked thoughtful, "That makes no sense. I've yet to see licks not use human society and human tech, except for the ones that are so old they're more comfortable with ancient stuff."

She snorted, "I never bought that one either, but I didn't have anything to counter with, so I let it go. My theory is that most demons are too stupid for much past 'Beat. Smash. Kill.' and minions are idiots. A _rock_ is 'high tech' to a majority of them." She grinned.

He laughed, "Hell, I know _people_ that rocks have too many moving parts for." He considered. "Ok. Since you've stated you don't know anything about firearms, I'm going to break it down carefully. I am not talking down to you. I'm explaining things you don't have the concepts for in a way that they make sense, right? Don't hit," he grinned.

"Ha." She nodded, fascinated.

"You know what kills vampires, both types, now: fire, sunlight, silver, wood, decapitation, sanctified items..." He paused. "Run down for me what kills most demons? I know that your blades aren't just steel, but beyond that, I'm the one without the concepts."

She raised an eyebrow at that, but ran down a list of common demon types and their vulnerabilities, and then some of the more uncommon and esoteric ones. "Had access to the IWC databases right now, could show you files."

He nodded. "Good enough, anyway. For the stuff that takes something really strange, like beating it with a sheep soaked in dragons bane or whatever, doesn't matter: you can plan for the exceptions - principle is you look for what covers the majority of situations. Like your silver melded blades, no?" She nodded.

"All right." He reached over and picked up a large handgun, broke it open and showed it to her with the cylinder out. "A Taurus .44 Magnum revolver with a concentrated UV-laser sight. Good choice because it has a large enough bore-size to handle a lot of ammunition choices." She nodded.

He continued: "A firearm is a launching platform, right? All a gun does is load and fire a projectile. Like a crossbow, bow, or rocket launcher. It's the projectile that really does the work. A firearm without ammo isn't even a good club. With me so far?"

She smirked. "Five-by-five."

Grin. "That's important. Means that as long as you can figure out what you need to do the job, if you can make it fire, you can load whatever the hell you need. Firearm is a launcher, firearms load cartridges, cartridges contain propellant and bullets. Bullets hit target."

"Give tarmangani battle yell, party much after." She snickered. He laughed. "Makes perfect sense... but not if you'd never been shown any of it."

He nodded. "Ok. So." He brought up a manual page on the computer screen, showed it to her, picked up an example of it off the table and handed it to her. "A mag-safe bullet. Used for shooting things where you don't want the projectile going through them and killing a bystander three blocks away. Jacket, filled with a jell, which is filled with small shot. Goes in, jacket breaks up, shot chews up the innards. Not much penetration." He picked up a thicker plastic cylinder. "Sabot slug. Plastic casing with a shotgun slug in the center. Used for firing small things through a larger bore size." He twisted the cylinder apart and showed her the wasp-waisted slug inside, then gestured around the bench. "Manuals, components, tools, moulds, reloading presses, measures, propellants, lathes, swaging dies, computer with database and ballistics programs: everything you need to make one of these do whatever you want within reason." He picked up a cartridge and waved it.

She leaned on the counter with an elbow, fascinated. Studied him for a moment, then widened her eyes slightly. "You're a Geek!" she said, accusingly. "Abby's a tech geek, you're a Gun Geek! Cool!" She grinned.

"Hey! Am not!"

"S'cool," she said. "I like geeks. Geeks are cool. Geeks make the world work. Wesley's a book Geek. Watchers are Geeks: feed Slayers 'how to seek, find, kill' info. Knowledge is Power. What you don't know Kills. Don't Die." She nodded decisively, "I just never knew there was geek-shit involved with firearms. Or an entire world of geeks and geek lore associated with them. Cool."

"Heh. If you only knew." He laughed. "But we won't get in that deep for now. We're interested in how to kill shit." Grinning.

"Heya, don't stop now. Take me all the way, baby," she smirked.

ahem "So you see where I'm going now," he blinked, continued. Ballistics gel is a rubbery stuff made with water and a chemical. Can take a bullet jacket, fill it with dense wooden and silver shot, and ballistics gel mixed with holy-water, and it'll annoy hell out of both types of vampire. As long as you can get the weights, velocities, and propellant charges right. Lathe-turn projectiles out of a heavy dense wood like lignum vitae, tulip wood, or ironwood, and make 'stake sabot rounds'. Silver bullets... can get the silver consecrated first if you can find a priest that's nuts, and even make a mould that'll indent a cross in a flat bullet nose. Or swagged jacketed soft points Solid bronze, for things you mentioned that require that. Incendiaries exist already... " He looked at the table. "We already have silver bullets and 'Sun-dog' rounds: projectiles that penetrate and set off a concentrated UV-laser burst inside. Works great on leeches."

"Tease." She laughed. "Can see now that if I ever get involved with a slayer school again, I'm going to need to stock it with gun geeks and gear." Grin.

"Couldn't hurt."

"Makes sense, when you know how it works and put it all together. Where'd you learn all this, anyway?" She asked. "And how come no one ever bothered to explain it all like that before?"

"Mostly from friends who were into guns. Got interested, starting reading... one thing led to another." He waved at the workspace. "As for the other? You grew up in Boston, right?"

She nodded. "Mostly."

"Insane gun laws and attitudes toward firearms. Not much chance to get into shooting if you're a kid. Not many places to shoot." He grinned. "If it'd been a ranch in Montana or Colorado, you'd probably have grown up around firearms and all this'd be old hat."

"Ha! Can just picture me with horses and cows, dude. Yipie kiyay muthafuck." She cocked her head. "Ok, so pretty much, as long as you're careful with the components, you can load pretty much anything into a cartridge and fire it. And tailor it to what you're trying to shoot. Simple, not easy, right?" He nodded. "Would imagine the really hard part then is making sure you're loaded with the right thing at the time... " she paused, thinking, "or just make sure you cover for the most likely targets and improvise on the special cases. Like always. Vamps and typical demons... silver, wood, and iron." She raised an eyebrow. "Gun's a platform, right? Can you alternate loads in the same firearm, say... the mag-safe you mentioned and sabot/stakes? Or sabot-silver-sabot-silver?"

"Yeah. But your point of impact changes unless you load the cartridges carefully to shoot together, and that's hard. Revolver's easiest for that: semi-auto's are a bit finickier about ammo." He considered. "You seem to pick up on things like this pretty fast when you get the chance," he cocked his head, smiling.

She laughed and struck and insouciant pose. "That's me. Fast. Gots like, facets and shit. Hidden depths." She grinned, but there was a smirk behind the eyes that belied the easy quip.

"That you do." He nodded, thinking: _'Absorbs and thinks through the implications, and fast. So who ever managed to beat into this girl that she was stupid? And why didn't someone beat the crap out of them for it?'_ She managed to fit in well here when she relaxed and stop beating herself up. Might be interesting if she stuck around.

"So. Can you like teach me how to use these things now?" She leaned on her elbows on the counter, looking up at him.

"Sure. Well, basics anyway. Depends on how long you'll be around... takes awhile to really learn how to shoot, but the basics aren't that hard." He looked like he was having a thought. "Or... does that slayer thing work with stuff like this? Picking up weapons... ?"

"Hrmm. Dunno." She frowned. "Helps with crossbows and bows, but you still have to learn those and practice, not just absorb it and instinct. Melee weaps and HTH are almost instinctive. Have to see."

He nodded. "Well... can teach you the basics, principles, and how-to-learn stuff. And get in a bit of shooting practice." He looked at her, "And if you don't stay long enough, depending on how things go, I can give you a couple of places you can get more." She raised an eyebrow. "Ayoob's Lethal Force Institute and there's Col. Cooper's Gunsite in Arizona, in that order. A bit expensive, but they're the best. LFI'll give you the combat shooting plus all of the legal aspects of working with firearms and self-defense." He held up a hand, "I know, not much help on demons, but good to know just in case. And Gunsite'll give you mindset and about as intense a skill set in pistol, rifle, and shotgun as you can get."

"They have academies for this stuff, huh? Not hurting for money, for a change." She laughed. "Gonna learn, learn from the best, right?"

She made a face. "Don't know how long I'll be around here. We'll see. Something'll probably come up and I'll move on. Something always comes up." _Dammit._

Abby looked up from her computer. "Hate to interrupt the ever important 'bonding with implements of destruction' thing, but I may have something interesting here... "


	11. Chapter 11: Weird even for this business

**Chapter 11: **_**"'Weird even for this business' weird"**_

"Watcha got?" Faith damned near teleported over. A break, finally? Hell yeah!

"Not sure. But odd." The girl continued browsing and pulling up files. "You said earlier and I quote 'strange deaths are usually a clue.. stranger than usual. _Ritual_ killings. Especially clustered' end quote. So... running a news daemon to pick up on 'Weird + murder + ritual' and variants for the past day plus brings up a LOT of stuff. Unfortunately. Had to triage it down."

"Majority, the 'ritualistic' is the several dozen or so human serial killers hunting the US/world at any given time, and the rituals describe more their behaviors. X-them out. Likewise, dump the majority of satanic killings/murders: majority of them are just playing at 'magic' while getting their kicks. Figure the time line from your dreams and the Hellmouth stuff... kill out the stuff that goes farther back than 2-3 weeks at the most. That leaves... a dozen plus distinctly odd set of items."

Faith took a look, reading through and scanning images quickly. "Huh. Ok - cross off those four. Supernatural ritual, but bullshit: symbols scrawled around bodies that don't add up to anything. Hrmm. Cross out these five. Wrong type of rituals. Cross out those. Ritual designed to send through, not open up. That leaves... huh. _Very_ fucking odd. Those four."

Hannibal eyed her quizzically as Abby narrowed down the list, and started pulling the four Faith'd requested into a separate window set with all the associated information. "You know magic, too?"

Faith shook her head. "No. But I've been at this long enough to recognize it and what it looks like. Professional skill, like you knowing how to make ammo, right?" He nodded. "Know people who can read the magical languages, Sumerian, Babylonian, Sanskrit, Ancient, Egyptian, and several demon languages. I can't - but I know what they look like... and what symbols are associated with what."

"Summonings have a certain type of look. So do power raising's. So do Opening spells. Etc etc etc yata yata. 'If it looks like this, it probably does _that_' sort of feel. If it's written in this, then it means _that_ kind of mage... " She glanced at him. "Got me?" He nodded. "A lot of the ones I tossed are garbage, basically. Symbols that don't belong together with designs that don't mean anything. Whacked killer getting out his inner demons. Ones I kept... "

"Those are... weird. As in 'weird for this business' weird," she continued, musing.

"How so?"

She shook her head. "Wait til Abby finishes. I want to look all of it over before I answer."

When that thing was did and done, she leaned over scrolling through the files. Reading brief news clips, looking at grainy web photos, reading through threads of speculation and argument on a couple of supernatural conspiracy and 'News of the Weird' discussion forums that had picked up on them. Campus murder at UT Austin, seven students murdered in on campus lab-room, 'mystical symbols' scrawled about in blood and other 'unspecified' materials, missing professor. Three similar murders at various points around Greater Austin. Connected to 'occult gaming' yata yata yata with the usual blather about the "evils" of RPG's etc in various Xian oriented editorials.

"Huh. And huh again." Faith looked at Abby. "Not enough detail to see what I'm really looking at. And I doubt I have time to jet to Austin and take a personal look. Can you get me more? Especially more detailed photos of the crime scenes. Let's see... background on the prof would be nice. Not much really informative in any of these news blurbs on him."

"Stuff buried in the Weird sections of papers usually doesn't have a lot of data." Abby considered, briefly. "Should be doable. Gimme some time."

Faith nodded and went for a refill of coffee and grabbed some donuts, plopping into a chair with one leg over a chair arm, swinging. A pensive look on her face as she stared off through a wall.

"'How so?'" Hannibal quoted back at her. She visibly wrenched her thoughts back into room, glanced at him, nodded.

"Kay-oh. From what I could see in the crime photos, what was done there should have been one of those 'toss it out' items. But it wasn't. Shouldn't be a spell there, but there obviously is." He gave a curious look, and she paused, sorting her thoughts. "You can see that from the one real photo: design was _burned_ into the floor of that lab room. Power went through that design, and left the symbols and design etched into the tiles. And it shouldn't have done that."

He gave an inquiring look, "Ok, I'll bite: why not?"

"Because that design wasn't a spell, and the lettering and symbols around it, while they are a language, are NOT magical." She frowned. Swigged coffee and scowled.

King looked obviously puzzled and raised an eyebrow, so she continued, "I'm no linguist, but I've been around them too much. Listen to geeks enough, and some of it sticks." She grinned. "Stuff I tossed was letters tossed together to spell gibberish. Like if you hit random keys on a computer in word shaped groups, right? Shaped like words, but it spells out fuck-all." He nodded.

"Damn right. Like if you did your thingy over there all correctly, but put flour in a cartridge. Everything's there in the proper proportions, but no meaning." She scowled. "This though: the circles and designs are put together in a way that did something. The letters make sense: they look like they're real words, just not real words. Magically or otherwise." He still looked like he didn't get it and she made an impatient noise. "Like you pick up a newspaper in cherokee or arabic, and you can't read it, but you can tell that it's a _language_, doof. Gots all the proper shit where it should be, and it repeats consistently in a way that doesn't look random." She grinned. "This is klingon or tolkien-elf. It _obviously_ looks like it was _designed_ to hang together and make sense. To someone."

"Heh." He snorted. "Obvious to YOU, maybe."

She saluted him with her mug. "Spend the next x-number of years hanging around mages, witches, demons, and linguists, and look at hundreds of ritual murders and spell leavings and musty books... and it'll be obvious to you, too." He made a 'no thanks' face and she laughed. "Welcome to My World. Problem is... it's not any language that _should_ be associated with magic, in a design that _shouldn't_ do fuck all, but it _did_."

"What?"

She looked at him like she was going to smack him with her mug. "Well, if I knew _that_, we'd be out stopping the Apocalypse, not sitting _here_, dick. Right?" She rolled her eyes. "Need. More. Data."

Aggravating time later, Abby said, "OK. Cross your fingers. I'm pretty sure I got in and out without tripping any flags or setting off alarms... but there is no 'certain' on that, ever." She bit her lip. "Downloading a bunch of stuff now."

"Cool." Faith looked for a place to connect her laptop to the network. "Can I plug in? And when you get it, can you shoot copies to me?"

"Sure." Abby pointed to a network port, and to some network cable.

"Good. That way you two can read and I can look without having to lean over your shoulders." She connected up.

**...**

"Huh." Police files and reports were definitely more illuminating than the news blurbs and editorials, even if they had a definite Sunnydale 'BBQ related accident' feel to the tone. Professor suspected of ritual killing of students, still on loose. FBI agent from 'weirdness office' assigned to case. Lots of photos. She went over them with a professional eye, ignoring the gruesomeness, while Abby and King dug into other aspects. Had to quash an impulse to drop all the police documents on one of those forum boards just to see them freak. Grinned.

"Ok." Faith frowned. "I was right. Non existent language according to this: doesn't match any known language. Bet money no known demon language either. Case file says 'suspected fantasy language made for perpetrator's fantasy world' with lots of police jargon and gobbledygook yata yata."

She pulled up an area photo and frowned. "Eeeeww. Bodies in 'semi-mummified condition but not dessicated'. Dessicated?"

"Dry." Hannibal tossed over his shoulder. "'They're still jjjuuuuiiiicccyyy!!'"

"Right. Knew that. Heh." She drummed her fingers on the laptop case. "Spell was a _draining_."

"You'll like this, too," Abby said. "Suspect hired on at university as 'Arlen Denison', Doctor of Applied Mathematics and 'Causative Physics', whatever that is. Arlen Dennison exists on paper prior to his hiring there... but only kinda. Just enough documentation to support him. Finger prints at scene don't match Arlen Denison. Do match a William Doren, who is a real person with plenty of documentation, Doctor of Anthropology from Chicago. Photos of both match. Police really looking for Doren, detail not released to public."

"Huh." Faith dug through and pulled up the information in question. Photos showed a slender man, sandy hair in mid-late forties, balding, and with a scraggly goatee. "Hrmm... almost looks familiar, but I can't place the image. Fuck."

She stared into space. "Ok. Doren finds a way to remake himself into Arlen Denison. Gets hired. Starts gaming group with students?"

Hannibal nodded. "Something called 'GURPS'."

She nodded. "Probably not important, but YNK it. He kills his gaming group with/in a very weird ritual and draws some sort of power in a way that shouldn't have happened, drains them of something, most likely life essence... and then does it three more times?"

Nod nod from the computer area.

"Then he vaporises... heads to Chicago, and does something at or near the Hellmouth that draws Power from it, capital-P, leaving it drained. Ditto for Cleveland. Then... " She trailed off. "Don't know. Depends on what he's doing and if he has the power he needs yet. If 'no', heads from there to Scotland or elsewhere to one of the other Hellmouths If 'yes', comes here, does shit, opens Hell. If needs something else... then fuckifIknow."

"If it's him. If this is connected. If he really needs to be here for it. If whatever he's doing is really going to happen here: you haven't actually seen Jersey or NYC in your dreaming." King counted off objections.

"Yah." She nodded. "But - it's connected all right." She looked at him. "Can tell by the plonk when it went clickety for me. Just don't know HOW it's connected yet, dammit." He still looked dubious.

"And... 'Hellmouths'? As in 'more than one'?" He shot her a curious glance.

"Figured out since the Sunnydale collapse, 'more than one'. The big, active one there always overshadowed the rest." She spread her hands, "Nine levels of Hell, traditionally. Nine active Hellmouths. New one opened in Cleveland within minutes of the SunnyD closing."

"Oh joy," Abby put in.

"Yeah. Be glad it wasn't some other symbolism" King raised a questioning eyebrow. She smirked: "Symbolism _could_ have been keyed to the 666 layers of the abyss," she grinned. They both made a face. "Yeah."

"Mind if I send an email through here?" Faith looked a question at Abby. "Want to spread the joy and frustration. And the workload and eyes on." Abby looked thoughtful, shrugged, nodded.

"k. Now.. who?" She made a decision, zipped up all the clips and files, threads, and photos, jotted a note and attached them to an email to Wesley. Picked up her cell and called him.

"Yeah yeah. Got something. Sending it to you as an attachment... need you to look it over, then pass a copy on to Vi, and one to Dawn. Tell them it came from me. Dump Dawn the detailed notes on all the dreams and speculations etc, too, please?"

pause

"Because I don't want to send to them from here and have them trace the email back to this location, hey?"

pause

"Right. Big file, take awhile to squeeze out. I'll call you back later. Umm... dunno. It's weird You'll see. Bye." She hung up and went back to looking through the files and thinking.

"Yo, Abs? Can you print out those photos and some of the more pertinent info?" Got a nod back. "Cool. Huh: _Still_ adds up to sum total of fuck all, dammit."

**...**

Night-thirty found her across the bridge with the bike opening up beneath her. She'd left Abby and King to catch up Blade on the possible lead when he got in. Definitely not _wanting_ to make this run... and needing to. It was a long while later with too much time to think when she pulled up to the gates and ran her key card through the scan, half-surprised that it still worked. She drove in and parked and headed in through the front doors of the main building.

She was used to the half-joke that too many of the younger slayers were half afraid of her. Half joke, because there was some fear there based on the fact that Faith could take any of them in training and didn't play at it, didn't let any of them slack, and didn't treat it as anything except the life/death business she knew it was. Slacking on her or treating it like a game was a fast way to bone bruises and sprains that needed Slayer healing to recover. And based on the mercurial temper that no one was ever quite sure was completely in check.

But her girls learned fast, and they didn't get killed out in the night and on patrols, and they respected her even when they feared.

She wasn't used to the half step back as she went in past several of them, and the look in the back of their eyes when she met theirs. The look people give the big cats at the zoo sometimes... when they're not certain the bars are going to hold.

That _stung_, dammit, and she dealt the only way she knew: ignoring it with a quip that hid the pang inside and asked where she could find Vi.

Found her in the big library as directed, with Giles, already expecting her. They'd never used to page ahead to warn that she was coming in, either, and that stung too. She leaned against a tall bookshelf and looked them over, nodding a greeting.

Vi at least hadn't changed on her. The redhead gave her a smile that looked all too harried and all to tired, but was genuine. "Faith. Didn't expect you." She gave the dark-haired woman an amused look, "Didn't expect you to not hit the kitchen en route, either."

"Wasn't sure of my welcome. Decided not to push it," Faith returned the amused look, then nodded at Giles. "G."

"Faith." He had the courtesy at least to look abashed at that, removing his glasses in a nervous gesture, and looking away briefly. "Quite."

Then he looked back and met her eyes, wincing a bit at whatever he saw there. "Apologies if anything I said may have been construed to give that impression."

"Naw," she sighed. "I think it's me. Expecting to be kicked even when it's not there. You didn't, not even really pissed when you first got here. Right to be pissed, some." She smiled, "B on the other hand..."

"Quite. But Buffy's not here, and we are." He nodded, "You're welcome back, of course. More concerned with what you might be bringing."

"Ugh." She grimaced. "Think I'd almost rather you kicked. I don't think it's going to be pretty." Faith stepped forward and dropped the files and photos she'd had Abby print off on the table between them, and dropped into a chair, putting her feet up and looking across the toes at them. "Figure Wes sent you copies like I asked him to, but thought a hard copy might help."

Vi nodded. "He did." She grinned suddenly. "I almost deleted it because of the 'wandh - dot -' addy until I saw the 'Forward from Faith' in the subject."

"I should have made bets." Faith grinned back, then cocked her head at the redhead. "You know... Wes is one of the good guys, Vi. Angel too. Wasn't too long ago we were depending on their hospitality after SunnyD fell in."

"Yes, well... " Giles gave a slight cough, looking through the folder. "Be that as it may, I'm afraid this still doesn't help us much. Nothing like this was found at the Chicago or Cleveland Hellmouths And the patrollers there saw no one meeting this description."

She made a face, "Was afraid of that. Have the people there check the areas _around_ and nearby the 'mouths. It may not need to be directly over the Hellmouth to draw power."

"Possibly," he replied. "But... you do know that what's in these photos and descriptions isn't even a spell, right?"

"Yeah." Faith nodded. "Except it is, somehow. Magical gibberish doesn't channel enough Power to burn a design and symbols into a tile floor, or leave sucked out corpses. My instincts tell me it's connected. My dream sense tells me it's connected."

He looked at her for a time, then nodded. "But not how, yet?" When she shook her head, he asked, "And you still don't want us to ask Willow to take a look?"

"And get back what?" Faith made a face, "That it's a language but it shouldn't be? That it's a spell circle but it shouldn't be? That it's a spell... but it can't be? We already _know_ all that. She may have more sheer power than anyone we know of, but you've got more varied accumulated magical and arcane _knowledge_ and experience in your head than any three covens around. If it were recognizable, you'd recognize it. What's she going to add?"

"That power is not an intangible asset, Faith." He said gently, regarding her.

"Yeah. And it should be on the second line, in case we fail. Ready to provide the big firepower to whoever gets stuck with dealing with what we can't fix." Faith shook her head, "She's not in the slayer dreams, as of yet. All she can add is Power, and raw power's not going to fix this, Giles."

"You sound certain of that," Vi put in, watching and listening to the two.

"I am."

"I wi-would that I could be as certain," Giles added.

Faith glanced at him, "Yeah, me too." And it took him a moment to realize that it was the implied 'would that I could be as certain of you' that she'd replied to, not the 'uncertain of the interpretation'. She looked away, then back at Vi... "There's something else, not quite related."

"Oh?"

Faith nodded. "There's a new Called I've found. I gave her the Speech, and your name and number so she can call if she decides to."

Vi nodded, considering. Giles looked at her. "You didn't bring her in?"

"No, and I'm not going to." Faith shook her head. "She knows what she is, has skills and training, and has family/friends in our peculiar business. I gave her the choice: it's up to her."

"But... " he started, then trailed off at Faith's raised eyebrow.

"But?" She waited for a long silence. "But? I thought that that was what we were doing now, right? We don't draft girls. We talk to them and give them the choice, and their families."

Vi nodded, and after a time, so did Giles. "At least give us her name, number, and description so we can initiate contact... "

"No."

"No?" Faith nodded and he frowned. "Faith... "

"No. Gave my word. The choice is up to her."

"But if she's killed or something happens before she decides, then... "

"Then she dies. Or something happens. Her choice." Faith regarded him. "I gave my word. It means something to me now."

"Yes, well... " Giles trailed off again. Faith both smiled and winced inside at the older man's discomfiture. He obviously wasn't used to being not-irresistible force to Faith's immovable object - it'd never happened before.

"Are you sure about this, Faith? Sure it's the best thing." Vi asked. At Faith's nod, she gave a very slight nod back, one Giles didn't see.

"We either meant what we said, or we didn't, when we said we weren't going to do things the same way the old Watcher's Council did. Either we mean that the girls have choice once we give them the scoop, or we don't." Faith shrugged. "Either you trust my judgment and the judgment of whoewhoever's in the field, or you don't."

"It's not always that simple," Giles began.

"Yes, it is, G." Faith said it flat and let it lay there and moulder. "No black helicopters and black vans. No tracing my cell so you can send a delegation with B or someone to push it. No following me back or sticking a tracer on my bike to trail it. I gave my word. Her choice. Not ours. Please don't break my word for me."

"Just out of curiosity, you understand: what if we decide to follow up somehow in spite of your warning?" Vi asked, carefully non-threatening.

"Better you shouldn't ask," Faith smiled, and felt something tear a bit more inside, knowing that this was probably a bridge burner here. "I'll stand by my word, and by the kid and her guardians. Need I spell it out?" She raised an eyebrow. "You'd better send the best you have, because no one else goes through me. And I'll be dead by the time they do. Not a threat, not a bluster, just a statement, k?" She paused, "My word. My call. Her choice. Trust me or don't."

She met Vi's eyes then, and something passed between them. "I could have left you guys out of the loop completely until she decided to call you. I didn't. That should tell you something. Please don't make me regret it."

Vi nodded, "Good enough." Giles looked at her then, as if he was seeing the centered, deadly, _certain_ young woman in front of him, past the insouciant facade, for the first time. Maybe he was.

"Quite," he nodded. "And we did mean it. It just isn't always as easy in practice."

"Don't sweat it G. Daddy's little killer's all growed up now and shit. You'll get used to it." She grinned, to break the mood, and laughed as Vi snickered.

"ahem Quite." He smiled, kind of. "Back to... what did you call it? 'Hellmouthzilla'? What's next on that?"

"Hrrmm... Let's go back to threats and bluster. It's easier." She frowned, then snickered. "Don't know. Did you have the more recent dreams also, Vi?" At Vi's nod, "Care to share?"

Vi related her versions of the slayer dreams, and Faith nodded, noting differences and similarities. She sighed. The similarities were far more than the differences, only from Vi's viewpoint. And her version of the 'not-B dream' had had a different messenger, but reinforced Faith's: 'Faith had the keys'. Faith just wished someone had given her the damned lock and a diagram. "Don't know. I'm hoping something will come out of this," she gestured at the scattered folder. "Or out of the next one, assuming there is a next one and they don't decide to just leave me twisting."

She thought for a bit. "Better have someone watch the Hellmouth in Scotland, and the next one nearest. Just in case he's still drawing power. Keep an eye on the Hellfire Club and possibly let them know it'd be a Bad Thing if they were involved or take advantage."

"Heh. We've already done that one." Vi laughed. "They're kind of... flustered at the moment. I understand that you've been shaking up the demonic underworld in Jersey more'n a bit?" Faith nodded. "Ripples are going everywhere. A lot of demonic mobsters want you gone gone. You're 'bad for business'."

Faith grinned. "I'm going to keep being sudden death on business-as-usual til this is done, too." She paused, considering, "All I can think of, but if something comes up, I'll get it to you. You mind coordinating through Wes? I think he's been adopted as my Watcher-in-proxy for the moment."

"We're ah... not really comfortable with that, Faith." Giles looked uncomfortable. Faith studied him.

"Who's 'we'? Vi doesn't look uncomfortable. You, Buff, and Andrew?" Thinking: 'here we go again'.

"Yes, well. We as a whole, in this case."

"I'm comfortable with him. So it's not 'we as a whole'." That one rolled out flat, too. Her night for this, huh? "But I'm not 'we' any more, am I." Her voice was soft.

She held up a palm, forestalling objections, "I know: Evil, evil Law-firm oh. Yeah yeah." She cocked her head, "I'm not real happy with the W&H thing either. I think Angel's an idiot for thinking he can reform or fight it from the inside, and it'll kill him trying. Them. But... " Faith paused, "I trusted him with my soul once, and he didn't let me down. I was inside his head, once, and you don't get closer. Wes trusted me with Angel's soul on the line, with no reason to. And when you guys were happy enough to use them and their resources to get my record cleared and my convictions reversed... I don't remember Angel saying 'Well, I don't know, we're not really comfortable with you guys'. You?"

Giles had the grace to look embarrassed. "No. I don't either." He sighed. "We'll go with it, for you. But I'm still not enthused about this."

"End of the world trumps all, G. You used to try to teach us that. Before the First. And there's none of us here who haven't made mistakes and been forgiven." She shot Vi a look quelling the redheads 'umm... me! me!' raised hand, "Ok, so almost none." She laughed. Looked seriously at the older man, "You don't have to be enthused, Giles. Just make a decision: trust, or don't."

She held his eyes until he nodded, and then nodded back. "All I know is that when I called... I had to argue like hell to keep all of them from jumping on a plane right that minute, no questions asked, and riding to the 'rescue', and not because they were afraid I'd screwed up. That may not mean anything to you. It says things to me." He nodded again and looked away.

"Ok, I'm going. Need to make another stop, and then make sure a few demonic mobsters remember to keep low and scared. Laters."

**...**

Instead, she hit Perditions first after making the long drive back. It was getting later, and she didn't really care to go smash demon haunts at the moment. Her visit back to the school had unsettled her, and the ache inside telling her that an all too short period of her life, and not a completely unhappy one, was closing.

She found Vince at his usual table, and he said he had nothing until she slid a folder with copies of the stuff she'd gone over with Vi and Giles across to him. After a time, he tapped a clawed finger on one of the police photos and said, "Didn't realize this fit, but now that I've seen this... I've seen this."

She raised an eyebrow. "Yeah," he added. "Agent at a publishing house in NYC was killed... oddly, early yesterday. Just heard about it today. Similar design and symbols were in the photo I saw. Not released to the press - written up as a simple murder."

"How'd you see it?" She asked.

"Hey. Demon mobster. You'd be amazed at how many bent cops will run supernatural stuff past me looking for leads they can bury." He cocked his head and grinned. "Or maybe you wouldn't."

Faith smirked. "Hrmmm. Anything taken?"

"Not that they could see."

"Have a name?"

"Yeah." He scribbled on a bar ticket one of his associates handed to him. "Here you go. It help?"

"Maybe. Just have to figure out where and how it fits. IF anywhere." She nodded. "Thanks."

"Hey - maybe now you won't shred my bar like you did several others last night. I'm all frightened now." He grinned.

"No worries." She grinned back. "I'm going to pass this on. Keep your ears out for me?" He nodded. "Laters."

Leaving the bar, she did that thing, passing it on to Vi, Wes, and Dawn in quick succession. Didn't pause for long chats. Then headed back in, repeated the process with Hannibal - the only one currently in - and sat around shooting the breeze with him over beer and food for a long time until sleep caught up with her.


	12. Chapter 12: I read a book, once Honest

**Chapter 12: **_**"I read a book, once. Honest."**_

_The Dream was __always__ the same. They were trying to hold the Gates of Hell, keep them from opening, while millions of screaming, slavering hellspawn did their level best to force them wide. And if they managed, the city, then the entire world would be swallowed by the terraced Pit beyond. Hell would come to New Jersey, not Georgia - but Georgia'd be eaten too in all too brief time._

_A time that would last for-EVER for the screaming souls that it encompassed._

_And that just wasn't going to happen. Faith wiped a bloody hand across her forehead, splattered toe to hair with ichor and gore. Everyone she'd ever known was fighting beside her, struggling vainly to kill enough to stem the slithering tides. With a few exceptions. _

_Thank the asswipe gods that she'd managed to make sure Dawn was one of the dwindling flow of refugees even now making their way out of the killing zone. No Key blood was going to be shed today to crack open wide and unleash __this__ upon all the worlds. Not now, not __ever__._

_There just wasn't damned enough of them, or too many of __them__. The Damned Gates wouldn't close. Mortal sinew wasn't strong enough, and there wasn't enough strength on the windlasses. She Slew until her arms burned with the strain and the breath rasped hot in her throat. And then she stepped forward with leaden arms and slew some more._

_Something burned on a spire in the distance, so far away that not even Slayer eyes could see it, but she knew with sight-beyond-seeing that it was a long slim sword, anciently and inhumanly runed, a swirling vortex at the tip._

_She caught a glimpse of a face through a break in the melee, and gasped. No time to look closer. No time... never enough time... Hordelings rushed her and she spun and killed, bleeding from a score of wounds._

_They had finally started to gain an inch or so on the one Gate, while the Dwarf and Giant, as she called them, had strained past breaking to start the giant winch there to turn. Another huge man had stepped in, to the other side, grizzled and broad, aged chaps eaten through with the acid blood of the spawnlings the ancient Winchester had cleared away from the path. Another one, huge hunk of meat piled six-feet-four, deep water tan long hidden under ichor, turned gin-colored eyes to the westerner saying "Good. Think we can make it through now." The big man nodded, "Let's move. We're wastin' daylight." Hispanic fellow with prison tats and puckered scars on his chest and body stepped up alongside. Not large, but there was a strength and a controlled rage to him that spoke of strength beyond his size. "I'm in." He glanced sideways at the gunfighter, surprised acceptance in his voice: "Thought you were dead." That got a chuckle. "Not hardly." They lent their mass to the windlass handle and it started to break loose, screaming with protesting strain._

_The demons screamed and howled in frustration and leapt in anew, desperate to reach the windlasses. She snarled and lunged in swinging. Nothing was getting past her to them. __Nothing__. Not fucking hardly._

_Glorificus broke loose from the horde, lunging towards the three. She batted aside the albino before he had a chance to raise that hellish ebony blade and he flew broken to land crumpled yards away. And a stocky woman, impression of bearlike and massive, but graceful, stepped in her path with a blade that __curved like water, then snapped razor straight. "__This__ world's dream doesn't have room for you." She slashed once, and Glory fell into two pieces and away. "And I've pissed bigger gods." She nodded, warrior's crest flexing with the motion._

_Black-and-gray was sitting cross-legged in a patch of bloody open dirt, winged lizards staring intently at nothing beyond him. The dark-haired woman was kneeling across from him, and between them was an elaborate swirling circular design drawn with ichor on the ground. A knife stood quivering in one part of the design, and Power crackled between them. Dark-hair met his eyes with concern as he said, "All right, every thing's done. All that's left is gathering and holding the power."_

_"Can you keep it under control long enough?" she asked._

_"No," He said, matter of factly. She blanched. "I thought I'd let it build until it implodes through both of us. __Always__ wanted to see how that felt."_

_Smart ass. Evidently, she thought so too, judging from the glare she sent him. Could swear she saw one of the lizards sniggering. "Did it once before," he said. "We'll see."_

_And He was there again. Bleeding hands grasping barbed massive chains pulled from the corpse of a Spawn to lash around a winch handle for leverage for the people doing the turning. Laughing eyes and that __smirk__ cut to the man beside him as he caught her eye, joking "We may no longer have that strength that once moved heaven and earth, but that which we are, will have to just fucking do, eh?"_

_"Who the fuck __are__ you?" she screamed._

_He shook his head. "You already know. When you come to the Place Where Only That Which You've Loved Can Help You, what will you bring?" He leaned in to pull, and pull again, dragging that desperately needed length of hell forged steel into place._

_She snarled and turned back to killing, slashing a path for them and the chains, moving on sheer force of will - all reserves long since burned away._

_With a sudden burst, it hit her: she __did__. _

_He nodded, "What the fuck are you waiting for, then?"_

The Universe realigned inside of her and she awoke...

"Spike was _wrong_. It's NOT 'always about the blood'." She sat bolt upright, "It's about the _Dreams_."

She rushed through the shower and into fresh clothes like a maniacal whirlwind, and tore out through the main room barely pausing to gulp a mug of coffee.

"I got it. Be back," got thrown over her shoulder as she threw herself out in the direction of her bike and spun off, leaving startled looks in her wake.

A quick stop at a 'net cafe got her a wifi connection and a hot coffee and danish as she logged in, muttering under her breath at the delay. Located the biggest bookstore in town and sped out, still choking down the remains of the danish. If there were any Jersey cops on the road, they had to be blind or all guarding donut shops that morning, because she wasn't taking any prisoners in the speed limit departments.

Forty-five minutes later found her prowling the shelves of a main Borders with a commandeered book cart, ransacking shelves and flipping through paperbacks as she went. Stacking them in two piles: a semi-careful one, and a clump at the other end.

When a nervous assistant manager finally screwed up enough nerve to approach her asking if she needed any help, with a raised eyebrow at the cart and the holes in his racks, she thrust a credit card at him without looking up. "When I get done, ring up both piles. Til then, leave me alone."

He took the card and, evidently deciding there really was a better part of valor, left her alone and instructed the clerks to stay out of her way... _after_ he'd checked the balance.

Several hours later, she looked up, cocked her head, and said, "Damn' right." She nodded. "Got you now."

Rolling the cart to the register, she bundled her 'keepers' into a bag and paid for them all, leaving.

Hit the cell on the way to the bike. "Wes. Listen up. I got it. It's about the _dreams_. It's about the _people_."

pause

"Haven't time to explain right now. I'll fill you in the gaps later. Need several things from your end _now_."

pause

"Here you go. We're looking for a _Place_, not a who or a what. 1) Find me a place in this area that's an old mystical area. Old burial ground, paved over ruins, ley lines conjunction... something. Biggest one in the area. 2) Figure out a time or times that would be best for creating a ritual for an Opening, a big one. That's our 'Go on'. 3) Gather up all of your spell stuff and get it together. I'm going to need you to design a spell..." pause "Yes, I know you're not really a mage. Doesn't matter. You can do this. Trust me. 4) Get Angel and Fred together and tell them to be ready at whatever time you locate. Have them standing by. 5) After you do all that, get a flight out here. I'll clear it at my... home base and get you a place to work. Somehow. Shit."

pause "Oh... and Wes? Can you get ahold of some of that spelled opiate, like we used with Angel? Do so and bring it. I'll explain later. It really does all make sense, kinda. If you're not picky about the definitions of 'make' and 'sense', anyway."

pause

"Yeah. I had another Dream, and it all clicked for me. Everything: the dreams, the cryptic hints, the people, the killings, the weird not-a-spell."

pause

"Yeah yeah. I know. There's something you can do to confirm, maybe: get into records on 'William Doren, Denison's aka. Or have someone go to his place to look. Find out if he has notebooks and files with notes on a weird, homemade language and designs in it anywhere. Heh - and get that publisher's agent's list and see if any of her clients turn up dead with similarities in the next day or so. Let me know when you're due here so I can prepare."

pause

"How do I know this is It? I read a book, once. Honest. Laters."

She had a thought after, and hit an office store on the way out for some heavy card stock and an ink jet that would handle it. A fast perusal of a gaming shop netted her a small pewter figurine, exquisitely detailed, of a woman in leather and mail with flowing hair and a pair of blades.

She roared back out, and once again the Traffic Gods smiled on her.

**...**

She tore back in, lugging a big canvas shopping bag full of mostly paperbacks, and a few DvD's. Immediately drafted Abby.

"Gathered you had some graphics skills times we talked?" She raised an eyebrow, ignoring Hannibal's questions and Blade's bemused look.

Abby nodded. "Some."

"Good. Here's what we need... " She explained. Frowned. "King? Don't interrupt right now. Break my train of thought, an' I'll give you a swirly."

"You have thoughts?"

"Ha. Schmuck. Scat."

**...**

Several hours later, she left Abby finishing up turning the images they'd scanned or otherwise created into a set of designed inlaid into a tarot format. After some discussion, they'd decided that would be, if not best maybe... apt, at least.

She paced while that was going on, frowning and muttering. Turning everything over in her mind, trying to see if she'd missed anything that would upset the fragile construction everything had clicked into for her. Making sure everything still fit. Made no sense by any principles of magic she'd ever seen or heard of in practice. But it... resonated. Have to do.

Flopping into a chair, she leaned forward and began breaking it down for King and Blade, sitting near enough that Abby could listen in and ask questions. She laid it out, all the details, all the reasoning and imagery.

After a time, she ran down and King looked at her. "I was wrong the other day. That wasn't insane. _This_ is. But... " He shrugged. "It fits. If anything does."

"Well, if I'm wrong, we probably won't live long enough for you to say 'I told you so'." She grinned. "Better get it out of your system now."

He laughed and said, "No, I'll save it and choke it out with my dying gasp. You'll feel guiltier that way." He made a face at himself inside for her suddenly stricken expression, cursed his mouth even though she covered it fast with a quip and a smirk.

"It's the only thing that makes sense. A spell that's not a spell but is. People from inside my head, and from my past. Dreams. Poem quotes. A sword that doesn't exist here. A stylized description of Hell opening up. It has to be connected to the dreamways." She made a face, "Don't know how, but it fits."

Abby frowned: "So this... wizard who either is a figment of someone's imagination who came to life somehow, or really exists somewhere, managed to tap into the energies here, and is going to do some thing that will open a gateway, which will then allow The Pit to open up here?" At Faith's nod, she said, "King's right. That is insane." She thumped Hannibal on the arm when he puffed up and looked smug. 'ow!'

Faith leaned back and looked at the other girl. "Or... more likely: he tapped into and connected with someone _here_ who resonates with him. Doren. And takes him over, _becomes_ him: hence the change in personality, skills, and everything else."

"So.. who is the wizard?" King asked, "And I'm trying to ignore that I used 'wizard' in a real sentence that doesn't have to do with a movie." He made a face.

Faith laughed, "A thousand names, King. None of them his own, none of them his True Name. Doesn't matter... naming him won't help."

She glanced at Blade. "I need to know if I can bring Wes in, here, or if I need to find some place for him to stay and work. We need him and the stuff he's bringing in." She waited. This was a big step. She was asking way too much trust here, and she knew it was all going to blow up on them.

He steepled his fingers and looked at her over them. A long regard, unhurried, like he was dissecting her insides. She squirmed inside, but regarded him back, no expression.

"I trust you, I think," he finally said. "I don't know him."

"Yeah. I know." She sighed. "I'll figure something ou-- "

He held up a finger. "He's your responsibility. Don't make me regret it. Here."

She raised an eyebrow, not quite daring to break into a grin. "Cool. You won't." She thought a minute, "Can someone pick him up when he gets in? I don't think all his stuff will fit on my bike. And he might not find this place from directions."

Hannibal rolled his eyes and sighed, looking at Blade like he'd grown a third eye. "I'll get him. I may as well go fucking insane too. It's obviously contagious"

Bouncing up again, she started to pace. Nothing to do now but the waiting, and preparations, and she hated that. Always easier when something could be solved with a blade and a quick stroke. Thinking left too much time for doubts. Grr.

"I gotta get outta here before I go nuts." She rolled her eyes when Hannibal snickered. "Nuts_-er_, fine." She grinned, "I'll be back."

**...**

Still daylight. Way too early to have this much time to kill. She ended up at a diner, absently scarfing down an omelet and a pile of bacon. She suddenly froze with a fork halfway to her mouth, struck by the realization that in several days of frenzied activity and intense violence... she'd never once really been hit by what she called the 'usual post-slay jones': Food and Lust. Horny and Hungry. Not uncontrollably, anyway. Even considering that as hot as he was, the intense Blade hadn't struck her as being really interested, and while Faith had never been particularly mono sexual.. she hadn't wanted to bring anything like into the growing friendship with Abby and put cracks in it. And then there was the definitely mutual interest she felt being in close proximity with eminently beddable King. Huh.

She realized she had no idea how long she'd been sitting there with a bite of cooling omelet balanced in midair, and took a bite hastily. Ok, so what the hell's wrong with this picture? Mutual interest, check. Usual post-slayage horniest, check. Attractive guy, check. Hormones, check. Funny, smart, sarcastic, dangerous. Grab and roll.

Only thing that occurred to her struck her as so unlikely that she rejected it out of hand: that she was tired of 'Want, Take, Have'/'Get some, get gone', not interested in a mutual bruising rebound so soon after Robin... and actually kind of liked King. And didn't want to just grab and roll and take a chance on probably screwing up the precarious trust building with the odd little group of hunters. She shoved it back out of sight, and then finally, reluctantly, dragged it back out into the light to examine.

It lay there blinking and mewling, not real certain what to do in the light. She put it away again hastily for later examination.

_'Huh. So.. is that what maturity looks like? And how the hell should I know?'_ She shook her head wondering at herself. "Yup. Definitely nuts-er."

She gave up on it and pulled out her cell and dialed the first number she thought of needing something done...

**...**

"Wow. This many calls in three days. Must be buds, huh?" Dawn's voice sounded tired.

"You bet. True love, next right."

"Ha. Tease." Dawn giggled. "So, what's up?"

"You sound... off. You ok?" Faith methodically picked at the remains of her plate.

"Tired. Exams. Study monster."

"Ah." Faith sighed. "And how's Sleeps With Corpses? Still causing people to dive for cover when she wanders by?"

giggle "No, she's gotten past that. Now she's in the mode where she suddenly stops, glares at nothing, mutters loudly 'That is NOT what I _meant_ and she KNOWS that!' at weird moments and then stomps off."

"Heh." Faith was silent for a time, long enough that the other girl made a noise and she went "Huh?"

"Ok. So... no-straight-to-business-gone. And distracted. Huh. Are you ok?" Dawn sounded frowning, and don't ask how she could tell.

"Yeah. No. Kinda."

"snicker That's what I like: your absolute unambiguity."

"Ha. If you're going to use big words, I'll hang up," Faith laughed. "Naw... just bored and out of sorts. I'm finding out I don't fit in my own skin any more."

"oh. Know how that feels. You fill it back up again eventually. Honest." pause "Anything in particular?"

"Huh. Where to start? Killin' time waiting for things to break and time-to-slay. Conversation with B. Had a long talk with Vi and Giles last night. End result: I'm thinking more and more that my road and you guys is parting, and I'm not sure I like it. I'm starting to click well with my newer acquaintances, and they're threatening to become friends on me. Not sure I like it. Sure I'm going to hate if it goes boom. Think I figured out the end-o-world thing, and chewing my hands off at the wrists because there's nothing to do now except wait for things to come together. More?" The last came out in a breathless rush.

"Whoa, whoa... Faith-babble. Now I _am_ worried." Dawn paused for a moment. "Serious life crisis, huh?"

"Ha. No... not really, why do you ask?"

"snort Ok, that's two shirts you owe me." pause "Wow. Anyplace in particular I should start, or you just want me to pick one and dive in?"

"That non-sound was a shrug."

"Ah. I wondered." pause "Ok... let's see. Kind of figured you were going to decide you weren't coming back. I'm not sure you ever really fit in with the whole school-IWC thing. That's not a slam. You're just not really a teacher, you're a hunter. You should have always really been way out in the field with Xan finding new slayers and killing things."

"Yeah... " sigh "Way I figured it."

"Buffy will get over it. Giles and Vi will adjust. Andrew will have a long moment filled heavily with geek references and by the time he's done, you'll be Xena starring in an epic journey. You'll figure out something that interests you. I figure you'll call me a lot, so it'll be like you never quit."

"Heh. I was ok until I became Xena. Now I'm depressed that my series is already canceled before I start." snicker

Dawn laughed. "There's always the feature films." She paused. "New friends, huh? Details?"

"No... I'm trying to keep them out of my whole Watcher's Council mess. Later?"

"Ok, but that kills that whole line of conversation right there. Later, but _now_ I get to meet them when later comes." She sighed. "Don't push, don't run screaming. It'll work out."

"Or we'll all die when the Pit opens, and that'll make it a non-issue."

snort "That's three. You're taking me shopping."

"I'm so doomed. You're too young to drink, anyway."

"It's coffee, ditz." Dawn sniggered. "Best for last huh? End of the world thing fixed?"

"No... just figured, mostly. Fixing is going to take work." She sighed, and proceeded to spend the next short while giving Dawn the short version, letting the girl fill in the details from the pieces she already had.

"Ok... wow." There was a long pause. "Impressed. I'm not going to ask something stupid like 'are you sure?', because I don't think you'd jump if you weren't." Thoughtful pause. "Not sure how you got from A to C, but it hangs together, considering. There's an awful lot of assumptions that have to be true in there, though."

"Yeah... " Faith considered, weighing against that inner certainty. "It clicks though. Don't know how to explain it."

"Just don't get so in love with the idea that you toss out new information that doesn't fit. If it's right, they'll click too." She paused, "Is there a plan? And do I get to do anything?"

"Yeah, and yeah, and you won't like it." Faith could hear the eye roll from here.

"Figures."

Faith outlined what she had in mind. "Need you to do two things. I'm going to send you a time, once Wes pins one down. When I do 1) call Xander for me, if you can, and ask him if he'll find a quiet, safe place to relax and meditate. If he's willing to be a part of it for me. 2) Make damned sure you stay wide awake through that time period. Coffee, shoot meth, don't care. Just do it. Still want you out of it."

sigh "Yeah. And I even get why, dammit." She considered. "Can do. And... Xan won't blow you off. Just make damned sure you fill me in with details after it's done, right?"

"Right. Promise."

There was a quiet moment on the other end. "Can I say something?"

"Can I stop you?" Faith responded.

"No. But thank you for playing." Dawn laughed. "Seriously... I think it's pre-game let down, Faith." She continued at Faith's inquiring sound. "You just had a major blowup. You've been running non-stop for days, middle of violence, trying to figure out obscure dreams and clues, with a lot of pressure. A lot of it self-inflicted. You're watching a part of your life end, and not sure where it's going. And dealing with new partners it sounds like both of you aren't sure of." pause "That last part scans if you squint at it, honest."

At Faith's laugh, she continued. "And suddenly, you find yourself with nothing to do, nothing to rush out and kill... just wait for stuff to pull together. And think. Pre-game let down. It'll pass. Enjoy the quiet time and don't go nuts."

There was a long pause while Faith digested that. Finally... "Maybe you're right. We'll see."

"Of course I'm right. Genius." She laughed at Faith's snicker. "Hang in there."

"Right. And... thanks," She said. "Laters."


	13. Chapter 13: The Power's Psychotic Pokem

**Chapter 13: **_**"The Power's Psychotic Pokemon"**_

Night passed, and then a day. No new dream, just a repeat of the last one. Faith went slowly buggy, doing her best to do it quietly so she didn't drag anyone else buggy with her. She worked out with Blade and Abby, learned and practiced shooting and gun handling with King, and went over all the information and bits and pieces until they blurred together in her mind's eye. Said 'augghhh!' a lot in her head, and decided it really should be an actual word in the dictionary.

Time crawled for her, but things happened anyway. Wes dug up several possible locations both weak enough and old-powerful enough to be a potential locus point. She rode out in the day and examined them minutely, memorizing them so she'd know the terrain if needed. Possible times, based on potential relevance to conditions for something they were only guessing at, really. Wolfram & Hart's contacts managed to get hold of files on Doren's effects, and discovered evidence of enough notes and scrawled diagrams to suggest she'd "clicked" it correctly. Also enough evidence to suggest he'd undergone a major personality and habit change some time before reappearing as Arlen. IWC people, after a more exhaustive search of the vicinities around the areas, confirmed evidence of similar designs not at, but reasonably near the two Hellmouths No other ones spiked and ebbed.

The occasional call to or from Dawn kept her sane. She hoped that they weren't destroying _Dawn's_ sanity.

Spent time talking with Abby, Blade, and Hannibal. Or rather... Faith, Abby and King talked, Blade mostly watched and listened, and occasionally tossed in an observation or brief comment.

Wesley finished enough of his prep work and research to leave the majority of his library and resources and schedule a flight from LA. Faith jotted down the times and details and thrust them absently at King as she wandered past.

She destroyed yet another punching bag, and threw her hands up in disgust and went vampire bar patrolling with Blade, Abby and King. She moved with frustrated, concentrated savagery in every line, and death walked beside her. After the first couple of haunts, a generalized sentiment of "Holy fuck!" went out, and licks and familiars became quiet and scarce afterwards.

Hunting with Blade, watching him work, was... educational. In more ways than one. As she'd expected, the big man was concentrated dangerous in action: Big Bad on the half shell, and made Angelus look like an amateur. As she'd expected as well, it was obvious he lived for the hunt, as she did. What she hadn't expected was that he was... fun. Evidently the normal taciturnity was his way of conserving: all of his expressiveness came out in battle. She hid a laugh at the sight of him firing off a lip-curled half-smile and a gallows humour quip at a thoroughly nonplussed vampire just before ashing him...

She broke from Blade's crew once it got quiet, hit a few scattered demon lairs on her own in a brief thunderclap of mayhem, and finally wound down a bit. She ended up at Perditions drinking beer and trading 'So a slayer, a vampire and a priest wander into this bar... ' jokes with Vince and the massive bartender until far past the wolf hours, then made her way back.

More than a few things that go bump in the alleys decided somewhere along that line that if this continued, she was going to have to either be assassinated or placated, and it was noted that assassins hadn't had much luck with her in the past. And, as it was considered to be just a bit unhealthy to upset Wolfram & Hart's new Los Angeles CEO, overt noises along those lines found themselves quashed quietly by various of the real movers. Some feelers were put out in that direction just for forms sake, but otherwise the supernatural underground began quietly shaking itself out looking for information.

**...**

Morning brought another rerun. Nothing new though, just variants on the same, and Faith decided that meant she either had the right track, or else was so hopelessly off that the dream faeries had given up and were bludgeoning her with repetition in a futile hope of sparking a neuron.

She growled and made vows if that proved the case to return the favor. Large bludgeon. With spikes.

Running the dream through her mind's eye, she reflected over coffee and a box of danishes that her best - only - friends were vampires both actual and ex, dhampir, comatose ex-cheerleader, a sarcastic Brit, assorted demons, the odd slayer, a blonde echo, and something that had once been an ancient green ball of energy. And books. She decided she hoped at least the gods had a sense of humour, because she wasn't finding it amusing.

Text message from someone she didn't recognize, but vaguely recalled as possibly being one of the demon lords she'd terrorized with Abby gave her some reassurance. evidently, an artist living in Boulder had been killed last night with unreleased police info indicating similarities to the other murders. She checked the name and ran it through Google, and when she saw the gallery, she made a mental note to have Wes cross reference it with the publisher's client list he'd hopefully obtained.

She didn't really need the confirmation by that point, but it'd be nice.

Clock was definitely ticking now. Just depending on how long it took for the power moving through what had once been Doren to perform whatever rituals he needed to draw his final piece through, and then make it here. She chewed a fingernail down and then went to beat on something in the gym. Hannibal begged off on an offer to spar with her with his hands palm out and edged carefully around her until he could escape safely out of sight. She growled and maxed out the weight machines.

Wesley's flight came in and Hannibal ventured off to retrieve him, sarcasm banks set at max. They returned joking comfortably with each other, amazingly. She made introductions to the others, noting they seemed to click reasonably well. Well... at least Wes, Abby, and King clicked ok. Blade's sum total of reaction was "Faith's friend, right?" with a microscopically raised eyebrow; a nod was returned, and he went completely unreadable.

Wes scrutinized him carefully for a moment, said "Blade? The Daywalker?" pause, blink "I always thought you were a myth."

Snort, "Not hardly."

"Quite." Nod. "Right, then."

No one died from it, so she counted it as a victory of sorts for the Good.

They went to work, cross referencing everything, and making sure all of the parts fit. She looked over Wes' shoulder at the notes and designs he and Fred had tentatively worked up, and the potential times. Narrowed down their map and calculated probabilities of how long it'd take to make it from Boulder to here, and cross referenced it with times and dates. She managed to lose herself in the details, discussion, and arguments, and finally relaxed a bit.

"Let's see... " Open books stacked around him, Wes glared at the computer screen like it was being purposely malevolent. "What you're looking for is a sending, basically, I gather."

"Yeah. Only for mind/self, not body." She frowned. "Combined with a linking to draw everything together."

"Quite." He frowned. "Hrmmm."

"Hrmmm?"

"Do the others involved need to have similar circles at their end?"

"Arrgh! You're asking me?!" She leaned back, arms crossed and glared at the layout while she considered. Closed her eyes and looked it it from the inner senses, finally. "Hrrmm."

"No," she said, finally. "Would help, but it's not necessary As I'm the focal... focii? as long as they're receptive, when I go, it'll draw everyone to me." She sighed. "Where ever that happens to be. Going to be seriously annoyed if I take a wrong turn into Narnia or somewhere."

"Ha. Quite."

She extended a finger to the screen. "Need smaller circles contained within, arrayed around the central one I'll be lying in. Linking all. For the cards. I think... " She raised an eyebrow at him questioningly.

"Ah. Yes." He studied the layout for a bit. "That would make sense... as much as any of this procedure does."

He started to open his mouth and she held up a finger, "Yes. I know you're not a wizard and spell creation isn't your gig. We've had this discussion already." She laughed.

"Ha. Multiple times, I believe," He looked rueful and rubbed his eyes. "I'll redesign it to fit."

"Cool." Faith cocked her head looking at the list of times, dates, and various hypothetical conjunctions on the other monitor. "Hrrm."

"Hrmmm?" in unison, yet, from Wes, Abby and King.

"Smart asses," she snorted. "You idiots practiced that, right?"

"Why yes."

"I have a host of friends. A veritable host of friends." She grinned.

"And you'd trade them in on a dog and shoot the dog," King supplied.

"Ha! Not quite, but tempting." She cocked an eyebrow. Studied the problem and ran it through her mind again. Watched Blade watching them as he quietly studied relations between Wes and her, the interplay between them and his 'kids' as she still thought of them. He met her eyes and gave her one of those ghostly half smiles and a slight movement that might be a nod.

After a time, she shrugged almost to herself and asked, "Ok... what's the closest of these to 1am within the time frame it'd take him/it to get here from Boulder and set up? We'll do it that way."

"1am?" Wes looked as if the sudden curve tossed him off the tracks.

"Start of the Wolf Hours." At his inquiring look, she supplied: "Midnight's 'the Witching Hour', right?" He nodded. "Wolf Hours are that time of the wee hours of the night between 1am and dawn where you lay awake staring at the ceiling, unable to get to sleep, while your inner demons eat at you?" He nodded. "Also usually when dreaming cycles tend to run for those of you who can actually sleep."

Blank looks and she shrugged. "Hey - it seems to resonate, and since we're dealing with something that doesn't fit normal magic, we may as well run with the dreams angle, right?"

"Absence of hard clues, 'resonates' is as good as a signpost," Hannibal put in. Then smacked himself in the forehead. "Oi... I just made a suggestion involving 'magic'. I think my brain just melted. And it's all your fault," he glared at Faith and Wes, who looked sympathetic and completely un-contrite.

"There there. You'll never miss it," Faith supplied. "This gets much easier without one."

"Ha ha. I'm going to go shoot things."

"O.K." she stretched. "Closest match, allowing travel time."

Abby shrugged and highlighted the closest match. "There. Tomorrow night, 2:43am"

"Cool. We run with it. I'll fill in the troops."

"Aye aye, skipper." Abby quirked a smile at the jittery Faith. "We'll set up the rest."

**...**

Dawn was easiest, followed by Angel and crew. Dawn merely listened to part of the explanation and reasoning, then cut in with a "Hold. When, what time?" and said she'd be awake, and would pass it on to the other involved party. And then clicked off to start on that, in case it took awhile to catch Xan in a place with cell reception. Minor discussion with Angel and Gunn, but in the end it was pro forma: all of them agreed to be set and waiting.

She left coordinating time zones to them with a mere caution to do so... time/date lines had never made sense to her and she was afraid of screwing it up.

Vi and Giles, naturally were the hardest. G, anyway. After some tactical discussion, Vi finally agreed she'd be in place and ready, with slayer teams arrayed around the city on alert for just in case. Giles had more argument, ranging from timing to techniques, until Faith finally cut in, shaken and exasperated: "Giles."

"Ah... yes?"

"Trust or don't. That's what it comes down to. If you have a _better_ plan, or a _better_ interpretation of the dreams and data, shoot _now_. Otherwise... make a decision. In or out. This is the best I can do: it's either right or wrong. Rather have you with, but if not... " She paused, searching for words, "Then not. This arguing is killing me inside. I don't know for certain, because there is no 'certain', and doubting myself is bad enough. _Hard_ enough."

She sighed heavily. "Giles... I'm about to drag everyone I know out on a limb for a dream, and I don't know if I'm about to saw it off behind us or not."

"... Ah, yes. Quite." He sighed, "Very well."

"Cool." She clicked off and went back to her cooling steak.

"Friends." She muttered under her breath. "Can't live with 'em, can't make jerky out of 'em without the cops getting bent. No wonder B was always a fruitcake."

She headed back to the compound after deactivating her council phone, and lost herself in shooting practice with King for the rest of the day while Wes and Abby worked. Waiting until well after dark to leave to attempt to set up the final bit of what she would be laughingly calling a 'plan'... if only the laughter didn't hurt.

_'I have a Plan,'_ she thought. _'I just wish I had an escape route...'_

**...**

Was well after one when she made it to Perditions, parking the bike a block away and walking up the rest of it. This was the part of things she really wasn't sure about, and it ate at what was left of her self-confidence after the argument with Giles.

Knew the minute she opened the door and slipped in that something was wrong, knew it by the relative emptiness of the place and the quiet. Knew it by the way the big bartender was carefully polishing the same spot on the bar top with both hands in sight.

Knew even before looking back towards Vince's usual table and seeing the four thug-things there arrayed to either side of another, and the flat, expressionless, _demon_ look on the normally smiling mob demon's face.

She went _slayer_ then, all vestiges of Faith submerging as she ghosted up behind the little gathering, careful to stay out from directly in front of Vince. One of the red bodyguards met her eyes glancingly and gave a barest nod as she came up.

"We're a bit concerned, Vince." That would be the center one of the visitors. Human looking, but about as human to her senses as Angelus on a bad day. "All this crap's bad for business. It's got some people disturbed."

One of his people noticed her then, and nudged the human-looking one. He turned to her a bit and his eyes widened slightly. Recovered fast and grinned, all oozing confidence again, and turned his head back slightly to Vince. "See? That's just what I'm talking about. Rumors that you're running with the Slayer and all friendly like."

He turned back to her and inclined his head slightly. "Slayer. No offense," he said, that last in a voice dripping sarcasm.

"Scum." She smiled back, and the bodyguards around him stiffened a bit more. "None taken."

"Slayer and demon boss, Vince. Isn't right." He snickered, "Has people wondering if you remember who your real friends are."

'Caught leaning' was the phrase from baseball, Faith vaguely remembered, and wasn't sure where she'd picked it up from. Too much of his awareness, and that of his guard thugs was on the slayer behind him and to one side, and not enough on business. The blast came up through the table top, splintering it and was followed by another, and he was falling back, staggered, and all hell broke loose.

She reached out and up to the suited bodyguard nearest her, grabbed a head and chin and twisted full strength and over the sickening wet crack saw the one next to him lurch as something impacted on him. Was vaguely aware that one of Vince's men had a pistol in hand and had caused the lurching, but she was _moving_ by then.

Another one had turned back with a gun out and was shooting, but too late - one of Vince's people fired a shot that sent bits and pieces of head all over. There was another blast and the remaining one lurched and staggered just as Faith's sword edge caught him under the chin and his head rolled, and then they were all standing and there were bodies on the floor.

Kronenen raised up from his seat with the sawed off still in one hand and stood, looking down on the human looking one. Not so human looking anymore, and still twitching. Shotgun leveled and there was another blast and the twitching stopped.

"I know who my friends are," Vince said, quietly. "And you ain't one of them."

They looked around. "Shit." One of Vince's red demon guards was down, eyes open and glassy, and another was holding his arm while his side leaked ichor. Vince nodded to one of the unwounded ones who took him by the shoulder and started moving him to the back.

He looked around, "Crap. Anyone know if he has a woman, or any family?" When one of the others nodded, he said, "Make sure she doesn't have to worry about money or nuthin'." He spit. "And get this crap off of my floor. Dump it at its owner's place and make sure they know where it came from."

Vince turned back to Faith, saying, "Damn, Slayer."

"Sorry."

He snorted. "What for? For distracting them? Would have been a lot more of us dead, otherwise."

"No." She jerked her head at the dead red demon. "For causing that."

"Happens," he shrugged. "Not this, then the next time some idiot decided he needed more action and wanted mine. No sweat."

She shrugged and made an aimless gesture, still not satisfied. But dropping it. "I came here to ask you for something, but I changed my mind." She turned to the door.

"Hey. Slayer." She turned her head back, slightly. "Ask."

"You sure... ?" He just looked at her, until finally she nodded. "Let's not do it standing in gunk and bodies though."

He grinned and led the way to the bar. "I kind of wanted to do this in private," she said.

Vince looked around at the few people dragging bodies, and at the empty place - customers had split when the death broke out. "B'yarj. You weren't here and didn't see or hear nuthin'." He grinned, "Shoot."

She sighed and took the beer B'yarj handed her and laid out what she thought was going on. Finished up with a rough outline of what she had in mind.

"Hrmm. Weird He looked thoughtful, "So what do you need from me?"

"You said you weren't running, and that this was 'your town' too." She met his eyes. "You mean that?"

He nodded. "So. But what do you _need_, Slayer."

"This is the place, and the time I need you there. Can you be there with as many of your men that feel the same way, and that you'd trust at your back in the thick and the dark and the mean?"

"Heh. Just how thick, dark, and mean you expecting, Slayer?"

"End of the world as we know it, Vince."

"And I was feeling fine til now." He snickered. "We'll be there."

She nodded and looked around, and at the ichor-stains by his table. "Good. Don't die, Thug." And left.


	14. Chapter 14: Not a critique

**Chapter 14: **_**"Not a critique, just an observation"**_

Everything was in place, almost. And time was running out...

Late late morning, way too early, and everyone was still up anyway. Faith guessed they couldn't sleep much either. Wound tight.

She watched Wesley putting final touches on things he'd already finished hours ago, yesterday even. Flipping idly through a thick book without seeing anything. Abby had had coffee and breakfast on the move, jittering, and retired to the range to lose herself in her bow and music. King fiddled with stuff on his gun bench, bounced up to pace, plopped down to fiddle some more. Faith prowled restless and itchy, then sprawled out to flip idly through channels on the satellite and stared unseeing at images and movies as she flipped past.

Even Blade, sunk deep and boneless into a recliner with a mug of coffee. She could see a definite twitch to that upper lip every time King would, predictably, bounce up to circle the room again.

Faith caught his eyes once and grinned, rolling hers slightly, and got a slight "Heh" back. Then she lurched up to prowl again.

Fourth time she bumped into Hannibal on their respective orbits and got a snarl followed by a muttered 'sorry', she screamed inside and outwardly said, "Oh for gods... " sigh "_Enough_, jeeze." She clapped her hands together.

"Ok, listen up, everyone." Ok, that at least got everyone's attention... "We're all going buggy here. Enough."

Hannibal opened his mouth to say something, probably sarcastic, and shut it at her glare. "Hannibal and I are going to kill each other if we bump noses again. Wes, you've put 'finishing touches' on that six times now since you've been up - and it's only been up an hour and a half." Abby wandered back in removing a bracer and heading towards the kitchen, "Abby's about to crawl out of her skin." She grinned at Blade's relaxed sprawl. "Even B-man there: he's about to strangle both me and King."

She nodded at Blade's micro-nod. "Dawn was right: pre-game jitters. We've already done everything we can reasonably do... nothing left now except to wait, and waiting's not anyone's real gig right now. So..."

"So what you got in mind?" King folded his arms and raised an eyebrow.

"Relax. Do normal shit for awhile." She paused, "Errr.. normal for this crowd, anyway." King grinned.

Faith pointed at him: "You: go get laid. Read. Start a flame war in a vampire forum. Browse Blade's zombie porn collection. Don't care."

She whirled on Blade, who was still sprawled bonelessly in his recliner. "Relax. Chill. All that hyperactivity and tension's is going to give you a coronary." Abby almost did a spit take on a mouthful of milk and glared at Faith.

Who fixed her with a speculative look, and Abby stepped back. "You, me, Wesley: we're going out for the day." She drove over Wes' startled 'Me?!' and flattened it. "Yes, you. Normal shit. Shopping, lunch, conversation, movie maybe. Out. Away from books. C'mon, you two."

"Hey! How come I get stuck with Blade and _he_ gets to go out with the babes?" King asked, wounded looking.

"Because you already spend all your time with Abby, and you and I will strangle each other in five minutes just from sheer smartassery," Faith cocked an eyebrow. "And if I leave Wes here, you and Blade will dissect him for information on me." She grinned, "Entertaining, maybe, but not relaxing." She noticed that neither he nor Blade made disavowing noises about that.

"Damn right," She grabbed Wes' jacket and hauled him out of the chair. "Don't worry. It'll be fun."

"I seem to recall that the last time I heard those words," He straightened himself and gathered what was left of his dignity, "was from Angel. Just before the last time I was shot."

"_Was_ fun right up until the bang, wasn't it?" Blinding grin. "C'mon. We're gone. Wasting daylight."

She dragged her troops out with a muttered 'we'll be back' over objections and after a bit, sounds of motorcycles starting.

Hannibal looked at Blade, who looked back. "So. What do you wanna do?"

**...**

Everything was in place, almost. And time was running out...

Faith stood in the place they'd selected and felt the power there. Old power, long since forgotten by everyone except the fragments buried in Watcher's Journals. Long since paved over and buried by progress. There was something deep under the ground there. Ancient burial ground, lair of ancient new world demon, old Celtic circle. Or all of the above.

Didn't matter now, except that it was a Place of Power, and a weak spot in the world that something from Elsewhere wanted to use to step elsewhere again.

They'd taken Blade's Charger to get here, as Faith hadn't wanted to risk not being in condition to ride her bike afterwards, and Wes' stuff and all the hardware was too much for anything without a boot. Trunk. Whatever. Now they stood around examining the area they'd chosen for their end of things. Not in the actual nexus but nearby: she didn't want to be where the other ritual was going to take place and have to deal with even the shade of a power that had once created an enormous wasteland as a mere byproduct of a duel.

Not in the real world, or even anything close to it.

Wes was arranging his components and checking the diagram of the design he'd worked out. Refreshing himself on the makeshift ritual he'd composed from elements and essences of several types of other ritual blended into one. One that they hoped would do the needed thing.

Send Faith's mind and soul _elsewhere_, and draw in the needed things with them.

She stood to one side giving a next-to-final check of her weapons and gear, grinning as she listened to a sotto voce litany of complaints about not being any kind of a real mage in a very British accent. "You'll do fine, McCoy, even if you are just a Doctor." Heard Hannibal's snicker as Wes glared at her.

"Yes, well." He smiled, "I'll remember you said that, later, when this turns you inside out and scrambles your molecules."

"If you're going to use big words on me, I'm leaving."

"Fine. Be that way."

They felt Power come into the other area then, moving through the night. All of them turned in the direction, watching as a small human entered the nexus area two hundred yards away, translucent. Faith could see scenery through him as he stood and looked around, and thought, _'Good thing I didn't plan on chopping his head off before he started.'_

Shaking his head, Wes turned back to laying out his materials and readying his things. "Bloody hell." He began sketching in the outlines of the spell.

They watched his back as he drew, watchful for the occasional minion or vampirling drawn to the gathering powers.

After a bit...

They heard the sound of cars pulling in a short distance away, turned as one in that direction. She listened, ears straining, heard voices. "It's cool - they're friends." And thought _'I hope'_.

Leaving the cars, Vince came over at the head of a dozen of his men, all carrying submachine guns and blades of various types. Faith was surprised to see the bartender with them, shotgun and an axe clutched in massive hands. he nodded as they came up.

"Slayer. Sorry we're a bit late." He grimaced. "evidently a few of my 'associates' didn't like our evident good relations, thought they'd have a few pointed words about it. Took a bit to get them to see my point of view."

"Sorry."

He shook his head. "No worries. So.. whatcha need?"

She explained, quickly, pressed for time; finishing with. "Guard our bodies while we do It. Don't know for certain anything's going to try to interrupt us, but it's the way to bet usually."

He was looking at her with a decidedly odd expression. "Sounds insane."

She ignored the snorts of agreement from Hannibal and Wes to that. "Yeah, well... you got a better idea, spill it fast."

"Naw, not a critique, just an observation." He cocked his head, asked "So, what's in it for us? And what's the cost?"

"Usual. Dying slowly and in great pain. Chance to save the world," she paused, grinned. "Chance just for once to see what it's like to walk on the side of the angels, Demon. Your soul, maybe. And a chance to poke the fates in the eye and laugh and piss in their faces. One _Hell_ of a brawl, maybe."

"The cost?" He laughed as she continued, "The Usual: Your life, your fortune, your sacred honor. You'll become a Pariah like Spike: other demons'll know you worked with the Slayer and they won't trust you. Probably be Hell on your business. Powers might take notice and draft you for other shit, fuck up the rest of your life. I wouldn't recommend it."

He was looking at her like she'd grown two heads and was sitting there quietly strangling one of them.

"What the hell, Slayer," he finally managed.

"'Angels' huh?" He looked around. "That'd be you lot?"

"Best we got. Close enough." She met his eyes, fey laughter dancing behind hers. "No blame if you walk. But make up your mind - we're wasting moonlight."

"Didn't plan to live forever. Sounds like fun. Count me in." He suddenly shot her a blazing look with too much heat behind the eyes. "We kinda like the World, Slayer. And Hell on Earth might be good for Evil... but it's just got to be fucking death on business." His hit-things nodded.

"Coolness." She nodded as they began taking places in a ring around where she pointed them, readying weapons. Hoped like hell that the others were readying themselves at their various places, set to join when this fell into place and sucked them in.

Wesley looked at her very oddly, then started drawing in the final parts of design for the spell she'd had him create. She took her place in the center as he filled in around her.

Smaller circles surrounded Wes, Blade, Hannibal, and Abby. He left places in the design for the cards Abby and her'd designed earlier, laid out the words and symbols, lit the candles. Some time later he looked at them, met her eyes and nodded. "Ready."

She sighed and looked at the ampule in her hand. "Gods, I hate this part." She stuck in the needle and injected herself with the vampiric narcotic. "It's time."

Felt it take effect after a time as Wesley chanted, and the world dimmed and sucked her into the darkness. And the Dreams...


	15. Chapter 15: Dancing in the Dark

**Chapter 15: **_**"Dancing in the Dark"**_

And it spit her back out onto the edges of the Pit.

Hell was coming to New Jersey, and a bunch of supernatural assholes had decided that she had all the right stuff to pull a Chuck Yeager and fly it back the fuck where it came from.

Lucky her.

**...**

_The Dream was __always__ the same. She stood there on that blasted plain and saw the high walls and those massive Gates, and knew that shortly they would crack open onto the field of the Plains of Jars, the Halls of Minos, and the massive Damned city of Dis beyond. And the hordes of Hell would pour out, Power would pour through..._

_And Hell would come to New Jersey. And then to the World._

_There were some that would joke that Jersey was already Hell, but not Faith, never again... for she was looking at the Real Thing right now in living Technicolor in all of its damnable glory._

_Everyone she'd ever known was here, everyone she'd ever touched for good and for ill, and who'd ever touched her back. Almost everyone..._

_There was Angel, broadsword over shoulder, looking about with a frown of annoyed recognition. She suddenly remembered that he'd been here before, for a hundred years, or some place Damned close to it. Gunn, wearing a half smirk, and cocking an eyebrow at her. Wesley, armed to the teeth. Giles, tweedy... crossbow over his shoulder, a short sword at one side, and looking about and cleaning his glasses for dear life. Not-Buffy looked around, a ghost-scythe in her hand, popping bubblegum. Her echo's mom, Joyce, hefted a skillet next to her, looking at ghost B with puzzlement. Some kid, no, teenager, sandy hair and unrecognized, leaned on a sword just behind Angel. A cocky smirk on his face she wanted to slap off._

_QueenC, frowning with a cute pair of horns over her face, designer jeans and boots with a pair of small axes in her hands. No metal yardstick this time: teacher-C was evidently out for the duration._

_Abby, Blade, and King were arrayed around beside her: Abby with that UV-arc and pistol and her bow; King strapped with firearms and various other things; Blade with that sword rolling his shoulders and looking big, mean, and reassuringly solid. And she wished she hadn't had to drag them to this place with her. She always was hard on her friends..._

_She looked over and saw Xander, Rona and Vi at his sides along with a half a dozen girls Faith couldn't recognize. Slayers all, though. He gave her a lopsided grin, hefted his axe, and shook his head looking around with a 'What the hell did I get dragged into now?' expression. There was a long-arm over his shoulder, the real African rifle: a .375 H&H that looked worn and well used, and well maintained. "You sure know how to show a boy a good time, girl," he said, smiling._

_"Finest kind, Xan - finest kind," she shot back and they both laughed, the killer in her to that hyena laugh in his and she knew then, suddenly, that something was healed between them... and maybe there was a chance some day that she could set things right. If they lived long enough._

_Richard Wilkins gazed at them from the side, smiling at the exchange. "I'm proud of you, firecracker. Almost worth not making it to see you grow into yourself." She gaped at him, stunned almost beyond comprehension that he'd be here, on __this__ side of the Gates, still looking at her with exasperated fondness. He laughed, "I didn't take you in __just__ because you were a tool, firecracker. You were special." Her first watcher nodded agreement, blood about her._

_Spike, long coat billowing, walking along with that cocky expression she'd always hated/loved making quips to the blue/brown woman - BEING - that stalked beside him with reptilian, birdlike grace. They paused in front of her and Spike nodded and quirked his mouth and said, "Bloody Hell, Slayer."_

_"Bloody Hell, indeed." She grinned and then bowed slightly from the neck at the blue being, received a birdlike cock of the head in return. "Old One." Faith nodded to her. "I'm honored that you would grace us with your Power."_

_The woman-thing looked about. "This shell confines. I am dreaming this." She made a casual gesture. "It amuses: I shall allow it to continue."_

_Faith shook her head slightly, bemused. And where the hell did that come from? wow. There was another woman behind Angel, off to the side, wearing a mid-length white jacket and street clothes, slayer feel to her, and Faith's eyes widened in shock but she didn't have time - couldn't __make__ time - there were things she had to attend to and damn it all, anyway._

_ALL of them were here, an unending line of them, covered in wounds and bearing weapons of every imaginable description, led by a young black woman walking beside another. All the Slayers, going back to pre-history, an unbroken chain that Faith felt terminate in her, for now. She nodded at the lead woman. "Slayer." And received back an equal nod and greeting._

_"Nikki Wood. Your son is a putz, you know that?" She grinned._

_"Did the best I could. But I wasn't given much time," she glared at Spike, malevolently. "This is done, I'm going to have my coat back, I think."_

_The other black girl looked at her, looked around. "I Chose you, I tink?" At Faith's nod she said, "Is bad here, no? What is it you need from us?"_

_"Kendra." Faith nodded. She turned and pointed behind them, towards the multitude of sleeping, dreaming non-combatants that would all-to-soon be trying to make their way away from The Blasted Plains and the hordes of spawnlings that would soon pour through, ravaging once those Hellish Gates cracked open._

_"Lead them out, cover their backs. Make sure they live. Hold those windlasses, don't let the hellspawn to them. You'll have help in that... Lend your strength to the doors... make it hard for them." She ticked off items on one hand, pointed where and where. Tossed her head in annoyance at the clamor of voices objecting that they should be in the lines, instead._

_"No, dammit. You had your shot," she responded, looking at the array of mortal wounds on the past Slayers. "Holding the line's a job for the Living, not the Dead. Our job, our time, our present."_

_"Need __you__ guys to make sure __they__ get out, get clear, get safe. Guard their backs. While we hold this line and the gap." Kendra and Nikki frowned, looking at the Gates as though they wanted to argue about who should hold, who should guard. "No. It's what we do. We stand between __them__ and the Monsters. Protect them." She shrugged. "__We__ fail, and you'll have all the Slaying you could ever want, guaranteed."_

_They nodded. Kendra smiled, the gap across her throat lending an eerie echo to the expression. "I and I chose well, I tink, mon," the Jamaican girl said._

_The eldritch bar groaned and cracked, seals shattering..._

_And the Gates of Hell cracked open and the Armies of Hell began to pour through, and they moved in a too thin line to meet them._

_She was a blur of motion, sword and knife in her hands, killing Hellspawn as she moved. Death was her Gift, and she gave it away to all she met, and all those that she'd touched fought and bled beside her._

_She felt Them coming then, the Others, called by whatever to this place by time and blood and aching need, connected through gossamer ties of torn mind and imagination, as strong as cable. The giant and the dwarf moved to one of the windlasses, others moving with them, and the Albino cleared them a path with that hellish ebon blade that reaped more than bone and flesh as it bit. A blazing elf moved beside him, bow swiveling almost with intelligence of its own, skewering demons as they moved. Larger than mortal strength in all too mortal frames groaned and cracked and the massive handle began to budge._

_Hellspawnlings shrieked and gibbered and foamed at the sound, rushing forth in renewed frenzy._

_To the other windlass, convict and ambling beach bum moved side by side with the ancient gunfighter, a massive wall of strength and iron will. Warrior crest rippling, woman with sword that bent like a wave slew whatever came near, moving at one side, and a tall, tall man in chaps leveled an ancient sharps and fired, loaded-fired again, smashing spawnlings out of the way. They reached and grasped the winch, taking hold. A huge biker looking type, wild red beard, angel colors, and faded blue eyes, wide as he was tall, moved and lent massive strength to theirs. She thought she could see a broken "E L" on the knuckles of one hand..._

_At their backs, a big man in black with a huge silver pistol stalked next to a large, beat upon looking fellow who smoked hellings with an ancient .45, fedora falling to blood soaked ground. And a small wraith of a girl with long black hair and luminous silver eyes prowled the edges of the fight with long claws and a bone pale knife, popping up here and there where ever something threatened one of the gate people and what she touched with that blade gasped and died._

_Crowding the gates there was a screaming wave of hellspawn. Some of them cute little Disney devils, some of them straight out of the minds of Bosch and Geiger. The others were slowly, groaningly pushing closed the gates, against massive resistance too great for mortal strength to overcome. If only she and those like her could hold the line, keep the gibbering hordes from slashing them down as they shoved and groaned and died with the strain. The blades in her hands moved like extensions of her soul, and blood was deep around her. Blade and Whistler and King helping to close the line, Hannibal screaming a non-stop litany of "Fuck fuck fuck fuck ME! Game fucking Over!"_

_In a break in the fight, destruction swirling about her, she saw __her__ again, working to staunch a hole in a bleeding Wesley, white coat soaked through with blood and demon guts. The sandy haired kid warded them, sword raised. Faith's eyes met hers and nodded, brown eye to brown. "You a doctor?"_

_"Something like," the other nodded, frowning as she tried to tighten a dressing. Kakhistos rushed them, snarling, and Faith cut him in half without a pause, and damned near without a glance._

_"Can you help with the wounded?" Faith got back a 'what do you think I'm working on?' look and nodded, whirling back to the dance of death. Could hear C's voice in her mind from the other night's dreams, as clear as bells, even though she could see her over over __there__, going under to a wave of goblins, far fewer after than before they took her. "Not __anyone's__ 'backup Slayer', Faith. You're The Slayer now, have been since Kendra died. Many are Called; __You__ were Chosen. Death is your Gift." Then nothing but arms and swords and claws, rising and falling, gore spraying out and up. Faith screamed in rage and loss, trying to claw her way to that place._

_She broke a wave of hell-lings, and had no time to rest: Being all in black, crimson and green came out before her, cloaked, masked, and wrapped about in spiking chains. No spawnling this: a full blown Hell Spawn, a General of Hell, twin curving blades in his hands. She knew from the sudden feral rush within that This was what the Essence in her was __meant__ to hunt, and she gave herself over to it with a scream. He met her rush with a feral howl of his own, twin blades whirling, chains striking, all the strengths of Hell behind him. Threw her back, and the hordelings behind him rushed into the precious ground lost. She rolled to her feet and came again, meeting eldritch blades with sword and axe, strength to strength, speed with ferocity. He was strong, faster than her, and his wounds closed with lambent fires while hers bled and tore. Strong... stronger than her? Not fucking hardly. He threw her back a dozen yards, bleeding from a score of wounds and she landed crouched with a grunt. Her eyes narrowed, measuring..._

_She feinted, leapt, struck all in one smooth motion and came to a rest beyond as he slid apart one half from the other in a blaze of green fire, blades falling to the ichor-drenched ground. Spawnlings boiled around and she whirled in a blur, clearing a gap about herself, and those that lived shrieked and gave berth. She sheathed her sword and picked up his blades, and felt them sing as they snugged into her hands, as if made for her. A word came into her mind then, "Valdris", and she nodded and accepted it. She moved on then, killing as she went, and her friends killed beside her. Giles pushed his glasses back up on his nose, hair wild. Then went back to beating demonlings to death with the stump of a shattered crossbow. Not Giles. Ripper. Having wayyy too much damned fun for any librarian._

_And then a huge heard, no - three - canine and scaled, came thrusting up through the gap in the Gate, clawed feet splattering hellings and defenders alike, forcing it wider. She leaped into the gap, not sure what the fuck to do about it, but game-all for trying. Vi threw herself in beside her, Scythe or ghost of the damned thing a crimson blur. Wished she'd never, ever had that Steinman thing come to her on the scaffold, for it beat in her ears and the back of her mind like an ear worm from Hell. She danced lethally amid the carnage to the inner rhythms._

_Xander fell in at her side firing upward til rifle emptied, then moving on sheer will with axes. She sent him a fey feral grin, blinding, and sang as the killing dance took her. "You know that we're damned if we never get out, and maybe we're damned if we do. BUT with every beat I've got locked in my heart - you know I'd rather be damned with you!"_

_He laughed, eye patch flashing as his head tossed back. "You're fucking nuts, kiddo." Snickered. "But if we gotta be damned, you know I wanna be damned - dancing through the Dark with you, too."_

_Abby pushed in beside her, that damned UV-Arc slicing through a tree trunk leg and drawing a hell shattering howl from the thing. Looking a little white around the edges: hell on wheels for vamps, but this whole demons and 'Stopping-the End-of-All' thing had her a bit wigged. She scraped up reassurance she didn't feel and shoved it into a blazing grin and said, "Welcome to your first Apocalypse, kiddo. Don't die: I hear it absolutely __ruins__ your fucking day."_

_"Are they __always__ like this?" She gasped out, slicing the forked tongue out of a snapping head, ducking teeth._

_Faith narrowed her eyes, buried a blade haft deep in the brain of a head that dipped too low as she leapt over it. It shrieked like a dying locomotive and the lights went out in the eyes. "Naw. Apoco-scale of one to ten, this one's about... a 12.5." She ducked, flashed a smirk at the girl. "But I hear they get worse the longer you last"_

_She laughed, spattered with blood and ichor. They'd lost sight of Blade and King, long ago. Knew they still lived, from the slayer feel. "You are fucking Insane!"_

_"Funny. All my friends keep telling me that," She jerked her head towards the fleeing non-combatants. "Goes with the Calling. We fight and die, so they can live." She leapt and slashed again, slicing a long gash across a massive throat, dropping another massive head onto the ground. Blocking just a bit more of the gap: buying that much more bloody space that someone else didn't have to die holding. "It's not just a Job, it's no pay and all the demons you can kill. Double your misery back if you're not satisfied."_

_She stepped back, absently decapitated a spawnling that tried to scramble over a head and past. Nodded decisively. "But it's damned fucking satisfying."_

_Blade made his re-entry then, burying sword with a full body-strength strike into a remaining head and dropping it into the gap. Ripping it free and standing, rolling his shoulders with a growl. She glanced over. "Glad you could join us."_

_"Been busy." He gave one of those barely present smiles. "Nice party. Guests are getting a bit rude."_

_The massive thing with three heads, scaled and hairy, thrashed spasming on ichor soaked ground before them and she leapt to a head, and thence to a high mound of massive humped shoulder and looked out upon the smoldering Pits. Looked out over the terraced depths of The Pit and the roiling waves of hellspawn still coming._

_The Thing the Darkness Fears. __Slayer__. She suddenly knew that it wasn't just words, wasn't just an ego-driven boast, wasn't just something the Powers dumped on you until you bent broke shattered from the weight of it. That there was Reason for it, reason that transcended the pain and the shattered lives and the long endless chain of broken girls torn by the need of it. She knew: because Here, Now, she stood before the reason of it and saw into the depths of the thing that they stood in the path of. That which was behind the things ever waiting to be unleashed upon those the ones she and those like her guarded, guarded even from themselves. And knew as well that there was reason why it was essential to hold onto the humanity and not shatter, and not Become that thing that snarled and sung within. She embraced both, the essence and the broken humanness inside, and sang back to it, with a score of __wounds bleeding and covered in ichor._

_Out there, beyond the range of Slayer sight and slayer sense, she saw with more than sight the massive spire and the swirling energy growing at its tip. Realized that there was where she needed to be..._

_She saw Him again, then: laughing eyes crinkling as he sweated, bled and pulled, torn hands dragging one of the spiking chains hacked from the Hell General's corpse towards a windlass that desperately needed it for leverage. Saw, and knew and named him in her mind. After all, he was the one who taught her that it's not just the people in your lives that matter, that you'd best be careful what you touch, what you use, what you make, because you leave a bit of yourself in everything you touch. Everything that touches you back._

_And gave her the clues to figure out the inverse: that it's not the Things, it's the __people__ you touch and who touch you back that can save you._

_She didn't need the answer, but she jumped down stalking over to him and asked him anyway: "So, who the fuck are you, anyway?"_

_"Part of all that I've met; I've become a fucking Name," he grinned and pulled, 'All's well in a world with me in it' smirk broadening. "And why the fuck are you wasting time with silly shit when we both have work to fucking do, eh?"_

_"Ha!" She threw her head back and laughed. "Of noble note, yeah - just need to find someone else and then let's fucking be about it."_

_"You eat with that mouth, kid?" She snorted and watched about as she spun, carved and slew, slicing a path for him and that chain. Finally spotted:_

_He wore black and gray and a pair of too-intelligent lizard things sat on his shoulders. He fought with a darkling blade that she hadn't noticed before, and it screamed in her mind with hunger and love as it bit into demon flesh and bone. Leather pants and halter, a dark haired woman fought beside him with pistol and sword and magics, arguing with him about something..._

_She fought her way to them and threw over her shoulder as she carved a spawnling from their backs: "I'm here, and I need to be __there__, dammit."_

_The woman did something, spoke Words that could never be remembered, only heard and reached inside of her and drew from her mind the place she'd glimpsed with more-than-sight, passed it to the gray man. "Have no idea how to get there from here."_

_He nodded, suddenly looking ineffably weary.. and said, "I've done it before, in a place something like this. It's going to bite, though." He looked at her, saying, "You're going to need to clear us a space, and keep it so." A tall mercenary woman, long chestnut hair, and a small dark woman fell in at her back and nodded. "As long as __she__ doesn't try to talk them to death," the tall one jerked her chin at the smaller one, "We'll help hold it clear."_

_While they did that thing, he knelt down and began drawing swirling patterns and symbols in the ichor stained ground with an athame. She handed him the figurine and he nodded. The woman lent him power and she felt it flow through the lizard things as they grasped the strands of Power and channeled them. Time passed, and she struck and killed and bled as they worked._

**...**

_And Done. He channeled the final bit of Power, capital-"P", that the dark-haired woman fed to him, and fed it into the Spell, letting it build and hang there, waiting. She could feel from where she was the exhaustion that bit deep into his bones, threatening to overwhelm him. And if it did, all of this was for naught and the Whole. Damn. World. was going to end. She felt him swallow it down with an act of sheer Will, and it held there._

_Black-and-gray was sitting cross-legged in a patch of bloody of open dirt, winged lizards staring intently at nothing beyond him. The dark-haired woman was kneeling across from him, and between them was an elaborate swirling circular design drawn with ichor on the ground. A knife stood quivering in one part of the design, and Power crackled between them. Dark-hair met his eyes with concern as he said, "All right, every thing's done. All that's left is gathering and holding the power."_

_"Can you keep it under control long enough?" she asked._

_"No," He said, matter of factly. She blanched. "I thought I'd let it build until it implodes through both of us. __Always__ wanted to see how that felt."_

_Smart ass. Evidently, the woman thought so too, judging from the glare she sent him. Could swear she saw one of the lizards sniggering. "Did it once before," he said. "We'll see."_

_"It's now or never," the woman said, shooting the man another glare, and Faith nodded and slashed one last time and jumped, over the lines of the Circle, landing in the center of it. Extremely careful to not break any lines._

_She nodded, meeting his eyes. The heads of the two lizard-things wove together in some unfathomable rhythm and she suddenly realized they were holding the lines of control to the Power, channeling it, so it wouldn't burn out the man and woman's minds._

_"Do it," she said._

_He drew the hand holding the athame between the tiny figurine and the embedded dagger with one single smooth motion, a line through the bloody dirt connecting the two and completing the design. And the Power broke through them all in a wave and a rush, broke through her, dissolving her within it..._

**...**

_The Universe turned inside out and imploded, twisted, and then expanded again, depositing her Elsewhere._

_"Whoa! What a rush!" Like the biggest damn' roller coaster she'd ever been on, complete to the clench of nausea in her gut. She grinned, looking around her._

_Top o' the Spire, Ma! She recognized it, deep in her heart, soul, and in the places of her mind where the hidden things were kept. Named it, to herself. Looked different from what she'd expected, what she'd __seen described. Knew even as she thought that... that it looked different to everyone, different form, shape... different __things__. This place was __hers__, and she Knew that too, down in her bones and blood._

_She glanced around, past the tiny alcoves along the walls that were filled with images rather than items, with rare exceptions, because Things had never been all that important to her. Came to rest on the Presence near the Center, and she ambled up to him like a lazy, indolent cat. The Big Bad._

_Thought quirked in her mind even as she thought that: "No". That's too easy, that was always B's stichk. Bad/Good, Evil/Good, Soul/Not-Soul. 'Like it's always that simple', she remembered telling someone, somewhere._

_So... not 'Big Bad', maybe. Not 'Big Good', either. Just a man, bookish looking, spectacles and thinning hair and scraggly goatee and skinny arms. Just a Man, connected to another man, another image of the same thing, with echoes of what would be a fuck of a lot of Power in another place and time, but was only reflections of power here. But the Reflections were damned near enough..._

_She stopped a short distance away from where he was holding that eldritch, runed sword upright, pommel to the ground and pouring Reflections of Power into it that caused that flickering, lambent, swirling vortex to form around its point. "Are you absolutely __sure__ you wanna do that?" she asked._

_He jerked his head up towards her in surprise, narrowing his eyes at her. "Oh yes, definitely," he stated. Then he gave her an honestly curious look. "Why ever wouldn't I?"_

_She inclined her hear to the Pit, beyond the lip of the small plateau. "Because of that. And what it'll do."_

_He shrugged as if it was no consequence, an 'oh, that' movement. And maybe it wasn't, to him. After all... this was the man who once helped to create a blasted waste the size of North America via his part in a wizards battle that leveled and raised mountains, once. In another place. But it mattered to __her__, and she had a job to do, and that was stopping him from doing it __here__. Lucky her. Oh joy._

_"Can't let you," she said._

_He snorted at that. "You have no earthly idea who you're talking to, young lady."_

_"Why yes. I. Do." She replied. And didn't that just get his attention?_

_He Looked at her, really looked, this time, as she continued. Saw the Power that lived and danced within her, everything she was, everything she held. And everything she was, was laughing at him, and he didn't like that at all._

_"I know exactly Who you are. And What. I can even name it: a dozen names. And yes, I know, 'that's what I'm called but it is not and never shall be my True Name' yata yata yata." She grinned. "And it doesn't matter, because this is my Place, my World, my Mind, and I Name you here: here in the Place Where Only That Which You Have Loved Can Save You. And Knowing you, and Naming you, __here__, I have power."_

_"My Place, not yours, and you've brought in another thing that doesn't Belong, doesn't, can't exist here, and if you continue with that, our whole fucking Universe ends." She nodded at the blade and the __growing vortex, continued. "I even understand what you're doing, why you're doing it, and I sympathize, but you __can't__ - not __here__. You're using a thing that isn't, and drawing on shades of power you don't have here, and if you do, it'll rip open ALL the barriers not just between your world and where you want to go, but between mine and all this. And that Pit will swallow the world."_

_She felt them as she spoke, all of them, real and not-real, awakening inside of her. All of those that she'd touched, and been touched by, never knowing it. Lending their power and joys and dreams and loves and lives to hers. For just one shining moment, she was a focus, more than herself - a part of everyone she'd ever known and touched, and who'd ever known her for good or for ill. She wrapped that feeling about her like a cloak, drew on it, and it warmed her to the core: 'Oh. So that's what love feels like. I never knew...'_

_She shook her head. "S'not gonna happen. Not on my watch."_

_He blinked at her, dismissed her words away with a blink, and she knew then that she wasn't going to be able to talk him down from this. Saddened her a bit, because she knew what it was like to want to go home... to want to even have a home to go __to__._

_"Doesn't matter, and you'll never reach me to stop me," he stated, turning back to the sword. And spoke liquid sounding Words that couldn't be remembered, only heard, and a barrier of light and energy sprang up between them._

_The Slayer inside of her thrummed and sang, and she stepped through it like it wasn't there, insubstantial as mist. He whipped his head around again and gaped._

_"You can't possibly... " he started, and she gave him a smile as rapt and sensual as a lovers. Her arm moved once, with the strength of all of those that sang inside of her moving through her, and her blade whisked across in an arc that separated head from body before he had a chance to finish telling her just __what__ she 'couldn't possibly'._

_"Of course I can," she stated. "Death is my Gift." The Power dispersed like fog, and the vortex winked out, and the runed sword fell glittering to the ground by his corpse._

_And his body faded and vanished and the Gates of Hell..._

_Slammed shut._

**...**

_She came back to herself on the Blasted Plain, looking up once again at those massive Gates. And everyone she'd ever known was around her once more... everyone she'd ever touched or who'd ever touched her._

_The Ancient Slayers were the first to go from there... fading with a final salute of weapon or upraised fist. "Rest you gentle, sleep you sound," she said, softly._

_She looked out over her friends, met eyes more than somewhat shell shocked at what they'd seen and felt. Counted heads._

_All of them seemed to have made it. Barely maybe, in some cases. Thank the gods, dismal pricks that what passes for a 'god' in this sorry ass existence were. She __knew__ in her blood and bone that it __was__ possible to have died in this place, and for the living, you never come back from that one. She saw Cordy at the back, and smiled._

_"Dancing in the Dark," Xander threw her a mock-salute and a lopsided grin._

_"And we didn't even get Damned for it, huh?" she threw back, grinning herself._

_They began to fade out then, and she raised her twin blades over her head in a crossed sword salute. Saw her, again in that moment, all too familiar eyes meeting her own with confusion and shock. No time to ask, never time, dammit. Have to figure it out later._

_Last to go were last to come... standing in a sprawled crowd with bemused expressions looking about. Gunfighter, sharpshooter, swordswoman, barbarian and mage; Damned Albino, Giant and Dwarf and glowing elf; convict, Shanir, and biker; beach bum and private-eye; executioner, Sorceress and Killer. Heroes all, and Champions. And all-too-mortal bone and sinew for all of that. Because that's the thing that Heros are made of..._

_"One equal temper of heroic hearts," she whispered, knew they heard it._

_He__ was standing there, a bit to one side. 'Knew any world that I'm in is gonna be all right' smirk intact. She wandered over, nodded to him. "So, who the fuck are you, anyway," she asked. No heat behind it, because she didn't need the answer._

_"Soul that has toiled and wrought and thought with thee," he grinned. "Not bad, kiddo. Not too fucking unbecoming men that strove with Gods, eh?"_

_She laughed. "And women. No, not bad at all," grinning back at him. "Thanks."_

_"Any time," he snickered. "Looks like thanks to you, I am become a fucking Name. I'll get you for that," he winked._

_She laughed again as he faded, and the Blasted Plains dissolved about her taking her with._

She groaned and sat up, stars above her the first things her eyes met. Not dead, but damned sure feeling like it might be a fucking improvement.

"She's back," she heard Blade say to someone else. He put hand under her arm as she faltered standing, helped her out of the circle until she could stand on her own. He nodded, "Got a bit worried."

"Had voices in my head to talk to," she smiled, remembering. Hannibal, Abby, and Wes were gazing about with expressions stuck somewhere between shell shocked and bemused. "Looks like we lived."

"Little worse for wear, maybe." She looked at the cuts and wounds covering all of them, at her own. No wonder she'd felt like shit, standing. Not as bad as they'd looked in the dreamways, thank the dismal gods for that, but there. She saw Wes holding his side, and her eyes clouded.

There was a body over there a ways, sprawled in the actual nexus, with its head lying somewhat distant from it. She shook her head. "Rest you gentle, sleep you sound." Faith went over slowly, looking at it. She bent and picked up something long and gleaming from the ground beside the corpse, shook her head and came back holding a long, slender, elegant looking sword.

"Best not leave this lying around," she remarked. "Its owner may come looking for it, one day."

Wes looked over at it, a bemused expression on his face. "All this, from that," he said.

Faith nodded, "Man, most mortal. Used by something that just wanted to go home... "

"Do you think the other one died as well?" he gave her an unfathomable look.

"No idea, Wes." She shook her head. "No idea."

Faith looked around. No Pit. They'd made it. Piles of ash and dust, mixed in with more'n a few demon parts littered the area beyond the circle. She saw Kronenen with his men, errr... things standing in a small clump off to one side, talking amongst themselves. There were fewer than they'd started out with, and she winced at that internally. She wandered over, hands in pockets. "Yo. See you held."

Vince looked up, grinned. "Slayer."

She nodded back, "Thug," and grinned back at him.

"Man oh man oh man!" He stared at her. "What a fucking ride!"

"Finest kind, killer," snicker She nodded. "Sorry about your men."

"Happens." He shrugged. "Least they went with a bang." He met her eyes, "Don't sweat it, Slayer. They knew what they were going into. And no one expects to get out alive from here."

She nodded, thoughtfully. "What now?"

He looked around. "Lots to think about." He looked her over, met her eyes and shot her an absolutely blazing grin, eyes glowing. "So this is what it feels like to walk on the side of the Angels, huh?"

"Naw. Usually feels like shit, and the pay scale sucks," she answered. "But every once in awhile..."

"Heh." He still had that idiotic grin, waayyy too many teeth there. "'Once in awhile' might just be enough. Occurs that my end of town could stand some cleaning up... " He paused, looked out into the night. "Never really thought about it that way, before. Yer a bad influence." He turned to his button-things.

"C'mon boys. Lets go break things and kill some shit." He turned towards the line of cars. "Gots a few 'rivals' that could stand some shaking up. Later, Slayer." he threw back over his shoulder at her.

She stared at his receding back, shook her head, looked up at Blade. "Huh. Keep an eye on that boy. Make sure nuthin' happens to him, hey?" Smiling, "He's got the makings of a gen-u-ine Champion. Kinda like to see him live long enough."

"Heh."

She looked at the scorched in Circle, narrowed her eyes. Walked over to one of the demon corpses nearby and put one foot on it, throwing back her head and letting out a Weissmuller yell that shook startled bats into new patterns in the sky and an owl out of a nearby tree, and then threw Wesley a grin. "Now, Party much, eh? Shall we?"

The long drive back was quiet, each lost in their own thoughts...


	16. Chapter 16: Part of all that I have met

**Chapter 16: **_**"For I am a part of all that I have met"**_

"Yay team! Do we rock, or what?" Faith laughed, then made a toasting motion with her beer bottle to Abby. "Congratulations, kid. You survived your first Apocalypse. And you obeyed Rule #1 even: Don't die." She grinned, and Abby grinned back.

"Of course. I'm told it absolutely ruins your day."

"Damn straight. And coming back from it's no picnic either, I'm told." Faith cocked her head at Wesley. "Y'know? We really should have figured it out a bit earlier. Vision-Cordy was right: had everything I needed. You should have caught on. And me."

Wesley gave her a quizzical look.

"'_Looks like you found us some work of noble note, damned straight.'"_ she quoted. Wesley still looked blank. She shook her head. "Try it without Walter's warped sense of humour addition, or my weird slay-dream interpretation. Ditto for the later quote. Add in the library."

Blade caught it, suddenly. She grinned at him. Not often she was ahead of Wes.

"Death closes all: but something ere the end, Some work of noble note may yet be done," he quoted. She nodded.

Wesley's eyes flashed suddenly with comprehension. "Tho' much is taken, much abides, and tho' We are not now that strength which in old days moved heaven and earth..."

She nodded. "That which we are, we are. One equal temper of heroic hearts, made weak by time and fate, but strong in Will." She closed her eyes as the last line came to her, "To Strive, to Seek, to Find, and not to Yield."

Hannibal looked puzzled. She winked at him, "Ulysses. Lord Tennyson. It was the Key."

"Naw. I was puzzling at you _knowing_ it." He stuck his tongue out at her. "I don't quite get how it was the key though?"

She shrugged. "It was a literary reference And the books. And all of the 'You knows' and 'You have all what you needs'. All of the people closing the gates were fictional characters: ones I knew. Books, movies... If Wes had caught the quote and emphasized it - and he should have had to have memorized it with his background - I probably would have put it together with the character and clicked it. Those were some of my favorite books."

Wesley shook his head. "Didn't occur to me to mention. I wasn't sure the poem would mean anything to you."

She frowned, "Hey - "

King cut in: "We know: You read a book, once. Honest." She threw her bottle cap at him. "ow!"

"Lots of them, actually. LOTS of fiction... fantasy, sci-fi, action, mysteries... not much horror." She grinned. "Nothing to do in prison except assassinate the clock. I read a LOT there, maybe for the first time. It kept me half-way sane. Ran across that poem, and the last of it... resonated with me. It said something about what I was trying to do... 'Hunting Redemption'." She glanced sideways at Blade and he returned one of those ghost smiles. "I hung on to it a lot, whenever I started to forget why I was there, and what I wanted out of it. 'Tho much is taken, much abides'. Took me a bit to figure it out... " She grimaced. "Wasn't easy. Half the words Tennyson used, I couldn't figure out what the fuck they meant - didn't have the context. Had to puzzle it out. But it gave me something to do... something to hang onto, against that killing blackness that's all prison leaves you."

She closed her eyes again, remembering, "everything was taken... but something was left. 'Some work of noble note' maybe, when I'd paid for the past. So I wasn't what I should have been, but that which I was, I fucking was... made weak by self-hate and years of abuse, yata yata."

Her voice was soft as she opened her eyes again. "NOT to yield." She nodded, "That character'd quoted it all through that book. It stuck. If it'd clicked, I'd have figured out who he was, and then the rest. And recognized that sword... "

Wesley frowned, "I'm not quite certain though how that would have brought the rest together. How that did bring the rest together, when it did click."

"Because you don't have the referents, maybe? The idea of fictional things being able to cross in and affect Reality would be foreign to your Watcher's mind. NOT to a Slayer though... especially one who'd spent almost two years reading fiction and living in it." She grinned. "After some of the stuff I'd seen? Not too out there, dude."

"'The Place Where Only That Which You've Loved Can Save You', Wes. And that which you've loved is always people. Real... fictional characters if they touched you deep enough. Put it all together: ALL of the people in those were people that'd touched me - Cordy, you, Xan, Vi, Angel.. Wilkins... even B and the gang. And the fictional ones I hung onto to keep from drowning. Sword of Morgaine... " She paused, glancing at where the gate sword lay gleaming on one of the weapon counters. Safe enough, now. Anything that wanted to walk in _here_ to take it was damned well welcome to try... and it'd better be pretty damned dangerous to try it and live. Not gonna happen.

"Elementary, Watcher." She swigged from her bottle.

Wesley was looking at her _very_ oddly, "Yes, quite. If you say so." He nodded. "I certainly won't underestimate your rather... unique.. perceptions again."

Hannibal snickered. "Sure you will." Wes glared at him, then laughed.

"Still, pretty smart to put it all together just from that," Wesley raised his bottle in a toasting motion.

"Naw. You're the smart one. I'm just clever, and had info you didn't," she shook her head. She never saw the look Wesley gave her, or the exchange of frustrated glances between him and King. Wouldn't have understood if she had. "Thug, not brain."

"Learned that from Walter too: you have to know your limits," she paused, "before you can exceed them. Being human's a lot more than it looks. That's why they always underestimate us. Rare exceptions, demons and gods can't be more than they are, can't 'exceed their grasp'. It's not in them."

"'Walter?" King inquired

"Walter Slovotsky," She nodded. "Sleeping Dragon series by Rosenberg. Road to Evenor, Road Home, specifically." She drained her beer. "He was the one that had the Ulysses poem and the dreams my slayer dreams were patterned on, running in his head all through those two books. That the poem came from. He's where I drew the "Place Where Only That Which You've Loved Can Save You from... and the meanings: '_that it's not just the people in your lives that matter, that you'd best be careful what you touch, what you use, what you make, because you leave a bit of yourself in everything you touch'_. That when you come to that place, you'd best have gone out, lived deeply, touched a fucking LOT - because in the end it's the only thing you have. And it comes back to you... "

She gazed out into the distance... "Spike was wrong. It's not always about the Blood. It's about the People. It's about the _Dreams_. That's what makes humans the deadliest and most effective predators in the universe, makes humans 'magic' - the stuff up here. Makes a demon infested vampire go out on his own and find himself a _soul_, without needing a gypsy curse to force him." She tapped her temple. "We dream shit up, and we make it _happen_. Rockets, guns, special ammo," she nodded at King, "radio, spells... when we hit something that challenges us, we figure out a way over, under, or through it. We dream up a way and we build the fucker... "

"Like that wizard was building a way to get back to where he wanted to go," Wesley mused. "Dreams." He looked away.

"Dreams," she nodded. "And only Dreams could stop him." She paused, struggling for the words to fit what she was seeing, feeling... "That Which You've Loved comes back to you. That which you've touched, touches you. That which you dream can turn on you. It always did on me." She winced. "Bastards. That's why 'They' dumped this one on me: I'm fucking _used_ to my dreams turning and biting me, what I touch _turning_ on me."

"Yanno?" She turned her head and glared at Wes. "I'm getting real fucking _tired_ of those goddam Powers fucking with people's hearts to do their fucking work for them." She stood. "Hell with it. I'm going to crash. Laterz."

She fled and left them sitting, staring after her.

It took a long time for sleep to claim her. She tossed and turned, muttered her way into exhaustion. Finally, darkness had mercy and swept her into its cool embrace.

She wasn't surprised to find herself elsewhere...

_Figured that if Hell was the Pit, antechamber to the Powers would be Wally World. Least it wasn't S-Mart. She followed the sound of voices and noise until she found herself in electronics..._

_Harmony bounced up from where she'd been watching a bank of big screen TVs with a squeal, "Faith!"_

_"Yah." She regarded the blonde former cheerleader-socialite, "Harm. THX. Ears. Hey?"_

_Harmony laughed, bubbling. "Sorry." She looked over the Dark Slayer with something like concern in her eyes. Harmony? Concern? Faith wondered for her sanity, not for the first time. "You made it. Cool."_

_"Bats out of hell always come home to roost, Harm," Faith gestured at the various television sets, puzzling at the images. She frowned when she noticed that all of them featured her. "Whatcha got here?"_

_"Lives, silly. All of them yours." The blonde vampire settled herself back into her recliner, handed Faith a bag of microwave popcorn. She gestured at the main bank in front, "Those are all the lives you could have had if you'd made different choices after you hit Sunnyhell. If the rest of us had made different ones, taken different actions." Faith studied the flickering scenes until Harmony motioned to the sets on the left. "Those are all the lives if you'd never come there. If you'd picked a different path after your Watcher died." She grinned and turned her chair to the right, "And these are the ones you never had, never could have. Lives you dreamed about. That one's my favorite:"_

_Faith looked. It was her, damned straight: wearing far too much dark makeup and eyeliner and wearing bloused pants and shirt, a kerchief binding her hair back. She pointed a flintlock pistol at an incredulous and shocked Will Turner who was holding a sword and objecting, "You cheated!"_

_"Yo. Pirate?" Faith laughed. Yeah, that'd always been a favorite of hers, too. She noticed that all of them were like that, westerns, space scenes, fantasy... she shook her head. All the idle places she'd put herself in her mind as a kid to escape from the hell that was her real life; to will away the bars in prison; or killing time in lonely motel rooms. She shook her head. Too weird._

_"o-kayyy." She looked at Harmony. "Slayer Dream. Powers. Aren't you supposed to be dead to be a Messenger?"_

_Harmony laughed. "Well, duh! Vampire?"_

_"Ah. Right." Faith snickered. Figures. "So, not that this ain't fun and all, but where's Cordy? Was kind of expecting her."_

_Harmony rolled her eyes. "Like she'd ever be caught dead in Wal-Mart? Silly." She waved aimlessly. "Take yourself there. It's easy."_

_"Huh? How?" Even as she said it, Faith felt a pull in herself and found herself suddenly elsewhere._

_White, all around. White floors, white tiles, white metal, white carpeting, white furniture, white ceiling, white white white. Pleah. If this is heaven, she decided she was never going to die._

_"Not Heaven, exactly. Just an office," the voice startled her. Room'd been empty when she got here._

_"So, pick the decor yourself, huh?" She turned to see dream-Cordelia, not in white thank gods, but tastefully and expensively dressed in a medley of darks and colors._

_"Oh please. Like I'm this boring? Not." Cordelia came forward to take Faith by the shoulders. "You done good. Figured it out. Didn't die. Took you long enough." She grinned._

_"Yah." Faith glared at her. "And the traditional reward for a Job Well Done is another fucking Job, right?"_

_"Yeah," Cordelia cocked her head, regarding her. "But not right away, probably. This is more of a chance to sort things out in your head... a bit of a breather." She paused, "And a chance for me to say 'thanks'."_

_"For what? 'Saving the World'? Comes with the package." Faith snorted. "Life sucks, but like, what's the alternative?"_

_"How about 'for not letting Angel and Wes down'? Proving Angel was right about you and I was wrong? Not letting Wesley die?" She gave Faith a serious look. "Giving me a second chance for screwing up? I'm only here because evidently, you felt I was someone who'd touched you. Otherwise... someone else'd be here and we wouldn't have had a chance for me to let you know how much I appreciated what you did, earlier."_

_Faith cocked her head. "An' touch is what it's all about, huh? What matters. Making an impact."_

_"Yes. In more ways than one." Cordelia touched the cheek Faith'd once left bruised and almost broken with an elbow, when she'd been in psycho-slayer mode after fleeing that church in Sunnydale. "Ow. You always did that thing, one way or another."_

_"Sorry." Faith's eyes darkened. "I never got a chance to say that, before."_

_"No worries." Cordelia grinned. "Not the first time I've been decked by a slayer."_

_"And you were wrong, before, back there," she continued, softly. "That's not the only reason They 'dumped this on you'."_

_"Oh? Why then?" Faith glared. "Not that I mind, kinda: not like I want the Pits to open up on earth. But it fucking hurts, dammit."_

_"I know." She looked at her with compassion. "But it's what made you the one for this, your 'special power' if you want to look at it that way. You reach people. You touch deeply, grab hold of life and everything in it. You touch people whether they want to be or not, make them react to you. Touch them to the soul, even when it hurts. Run like hell before they can touch you back. Like you, hate you, no one's __ever__ been indifferent to you. No one's ever been unaffected by you." She smiled._

_"'You'd best be careful what you touch, what you use, what you make, because you leave a bit of yourself in everything you touch'," Faith quoted back._

_"'that it's not the Things, it's the __people__ you touch and who touch you back that can save you'," Cordy nodded, "And that which you've loved and touched is always the people. Don't lose that. It's Important. It's the difference when every thing's going to Hell and the __things__ aren't enough to hang onto. Took me one __hell__ of a long time to figure out what you seem to have known all along." She met Faith's eyes levelly, "No one else had all the bits and pieces to do this except you. Had the knowledge, and that connection to people and dreams."_

_"Never had 'things'. 'Things' didn't matter. Never really had 'people' either, but at least I could try," Faith shrugged._

_"And we fucked up pretty badly, didn't we? Put the final cap on everything when you came to us in Sunnydale, pretty much drove you to the mayor and over the edge. All of us." Cordelia's eyes were dark._

_"Hell, Cordy," Faith stared at her, incredulous. "You were fucking __teenagers__, for chrissake. We were. Ever see a kid that could see past their own asshole?" She snickered, a horrid sound that threatened to turn into a sob. "I never did. You guys were wrapped up in your own concerns.. Hell, you had to be. You were trying to survive everything the fucking Hellmouth could throw at you. It'd have been fucking amazing if you'd been able to see past that and past all the shit I was dumping on top of you too. Would have taken Saints, not a bunch of scared, fucked-up kids." She paused, thoughtful, "Giles, maybe. Always been hard to forgive him for not. Fucking grownups." She frowned. "Not. Your. Fault. I was already fucked up beyond salvage way before then. Just took me awhile to see that."_

_"Not beyond salvage," Cordelia shook her head._

_"So, am I fucking quenched yet?" She grinned suddenly, tired of the blame and tired of playing that game-not-a-game._

_"Ha. Getting there. Still being forged, I'm afraid." She grinned back at Faith, "But you've got a better chance now. You're starting to learn how to touch back without hurting."_

_"Gee. Can't wait. Getting used to the hammer." She rolled her eyes._

_"Yeah." Cordelia sobered, met Faith's eyes. "I'm glad you didn't die. Gives us a chance."_

_"Dying's a Bad Thing. Ruins your day. 'Sides - you told me I wasn't allowed."_

_"Damn straight." She winked. "Til next time?"_

_"So... this a regular gig for you now?" She regarded the other woman._

_"If you want. They were going to give you to someone else, but you Called me." Cordelia laughed. "Definitely proved interesting."_

_Faith cocked her head, regarded her back seriously. "I think I could deal with that. If we gotta be damned and all, you know?"_

_"Dancing in the dark, Faith. And bumping into things and hanging on to others when it hurts." Cordelia smiled. "Later."_

_Sleep swallowed her back up and took its time before spitting her out again..._

**...**

_'dancing in the dark with you', _Faith rolled over, stretched, and yawned, suddenly grinning. _'Could prove interesting, C.' _

She got up, suddenly curious to see what the day and coffee would bring.


	17. Epilogue: That which we are

**Epilogue: **_**"That which we are"**_

Food and coffee and quiet conversation. Easy camaraderie. Something new.. something Faith thought she might could get used to one day.

One day when it stopped freaking her out a bit, maybe.

She'd been surprised to find that two days had passed while she slept, evidently exhaustion and stress knocking her out for the count in the wake of that hellish fight inside of her mind. Inside? Maybe not just... from the healing wounds and bandages she could see on her companions, and the things she could feel inside when she reached for them. Slayer healing had taken care of her cuts; taken care of all except the bone deep stiffness and ache of muscle pushed too far past its limits.

She watched King, Wesley and Abby talking together, Wes's easy laugh mixing with Hannibal's sarcasm and Abby's understated, always unexpected quips. Watched Blade watching _them_, ghosted smile barely curving the corner of one lip. Caught the occasional glances and comments her way, drawing her in, making her a part of things rather than leaving her outside watching. Thought about people, and connections, and things. Felt something inside unbreak just a little...

And felt the itch to be moving, still.

Not because she wasn't welcome, or had to get away. Or _had_ to run, run fast before she could get touched by the people around her, push them away before they could push first. Because she had things to do still, and they weren't here, weren't now.

She came back to the room from a long way off, reaching back into the last few minutes for something Wesley'd been saying, dredged it up.

"Huh?" Her question drew a look. "New _what_?"

"Well, I'm going to have to run some more tests, of course, to be sure." He looked apologetic. "But the detection charm I used before we left last night definitely registered something."

"A new _Hellmouth_? A _tenth_ one?" She boggled. "I didn't think that was freaking possible?" She looked at him accusingly.

"Well.. maybe not quite," he gave her a 'not my fault!' expression. "A nascent one, definitely Maybe a baby one, certainly."

"Fuck me."

"Ha. I share the sentiment." He looked thoughtful. "And now we know how they're born, I suppose. A weak place between worlds, influx of hell energies, desire, massive amounts of Power, and large amounts of life and death energies."

"And dreams," she made a face. "Don't forget the Dreams."

"Quite."

She looked over at Abby who was eying them with something like alarm. "Congratulations. It's a Boy."

"What?!"

"You." She snickered at Abby's expression and gave her a commiserating look that was spoiled entirely by the gleam in her eye. "You're now the proud Guardian of a Baby Hellmouth. I'm SO proud. Mommy's little Apprentice's all growed up now." She sniggered.

"But but but... " Abby shot her a glower.

"Yup." Faith gave her a dark look. "I'd run like hell if I were you," she grinned.

Blade and Hannibal were giving _her_ dark Looks. Wes kept his face studiously blank.

"Ah. It's not that bad. No Watcher's Council idiots dumped her in the middle of it with one old middle-aged geezer expecting her to croak in a few months. She's got you guys. And with the Slayer School across the river, there'll be access to backup and other people to help patrol it." She looked thoughtful. "Might not be bad for her to make contact with them... maybe get a Watcher assigned to help with instruction in the supernatural and mystical research."

Faith frowned. "I'll talk to Vi. Make _sure_ she understands that it's up to _Abby_ and you guys if they do. Watcher and the Council doesn't try to take her over." She grinned: "That I'll come back and kick someone's ass if that happens... assuming Blade doesn't eat them."

Blade gave her a look. "You're not staying?"

"Can't." Flat.

Wes gave her a curious look, knowing the answer already. "Not going back to the school and the IWC, then, certainly?"

"No." She shook her head. "Too much history, and I'm not sure any longer I want to be a part of making more. Not there. Especially not with me 'n Robin still raw and B pissed over my not agreeing with her view of the Universe. Not going to back down just to please them, not when I'm right." She grimaced, "I'm a square peg in a round hole there. I'm not a teacher, or an administrator, or a whatever. I'm a hunter - this is what I'm good at. I didn't realize it at the time, but it was breaking something inside trying to be something I'm not. For someone else." She looked out through a wall, speaking softly. "If we'd not blown up... I might have worked at it and made it. Or broke from trying, and then really gone back to psycho-Slayer, and hurt someone for keeps." She met his eyes. "That which I am, I am."

She grinned, "I can't be what someone else wants. I'll do anything for love, but I won't do _that_."

Wes nodded.

Blade looked her over. "You're welcome here." He nodded, decision made.

She shook her head, not wanting to deal with the sense of loss having to say "no" to that was going to leave behind. "I know." She met those eyes. "But I have something to do, and it's not here. Someone I have to find."

"Someone?" Wesley gave her a curious look.

"Think back to that night, Wes. In the crowd working with us... girl in a white jacket?" She saw him puzzling at it, sorting through images from that hellish jumble. "Picture with regular clothes, not as a biker's leather fantasy. Brown hair, with gold highlights - not almost black." Saw his eyes register the memory.

"Oh." Raised eyebrow. "I did. Thought she was something from the dream images?"

Faith shook her head. "No. Came in with us, not with them later. Behind Angel... didn't have time to question then. And then she was gone with you guys, and I still hadn't had time."

"Somewhere out there, I have a double. Clone. Doppleganger. Maybe a sister? Something... " She looked off into the distance. "Have to find out."

"But how? With nothing to go on?" King looked dismayed by a thought, "And what if she's not even in this dimension?" He definitely looked like he'd bitten a lemon having to even consider 'other dimension' and have to use it in a sentence.

"Heh. Dunno. I'll find out." Faith grinned. "Have to. I can feel it." She glanced at the weapons bench... "And I need to either figure out somewhere safe to put that damned sword where no one can get to it, or how to get it back to where it belongs," Faith made a face. "Guess I'm stuck with it for now," she said, "It's too damned dangerous even for the Council vaults." Wes glanced at it himself, met her eyes, and nodded. She noticed he didn't offer to lock it up in Wolfram & Hart's vaults for safekeeping, either, or else guessed that she wouldn't agree and didn't want to argue it. Too damned dangerous to trust anywhere near W&H, either, even with Angel in charge of the place.

Blade nodded. "Come back. We'll be around."

"Thanks." She laughed. "You're not rid of me that easy. I have it on Good Authority that I make an impact," she winked.

"That you do."

Nod. "Can you guys make sure Wes gets to the airport?"

**...**

Goodbyes...

_**Abby**_ came to her room after Faith had showered and changed, sitting cross legged on the bed while she sorted out gear and packed away items and weapons. "We'll miss you."

Faith looked at her, not showing the prick of surprise that still shot through her. Put it away to save for later. "Me too, you guys." She leaned against a door frame and studied the girl that she still saw as 'younger', even though talking, she realized in her head that Abby was a couple of years older than her. "I wasn't expecting this when I stumbled into that alley to investigate those screams."

"Ha!" Abby grinned. "Neither were we."

"I'll stay in touch," she said, and was surprised to discover she meant it.

"You'd better," Abby responded. "Can't just dump an infant Hellmouth in my lap and ride off forever without a by-your-leave. You're going to have to help me pick out baby booties and a crib."

Faith grinned, "You'll do good." She went back to putting away her small amount of possessions.

"You know... that's not going to fit in that bag," Abby started as Faith took down her sword and slid it into the leather gear bag. "Uhhhh... Never mind," she finished when it disappeared completely. "Huh?!"

"Ha. Shows you." Faith winked. "Gift from a fr... kinda acquaintance. Witch. It's lots bigger inside than it looks, but anyone except me reaching in only finds clothes and toiletries and bottom."

"Handy."

"Yeah. Keeps me from having to explain to cops why I'm lugging 25" of steel and tons of knives and axes just tooling around normally," she said. "I don't worry about it when I'm patrolling."

Nod. "You take care of yourself, Faith. Don't die." She looked at the dark haired girl seriously, "And... think about what Blade and King were saying. You're not what you keep seeing yourself as. Not any more."

"I'll... try." Faith nodded. "It's not easy." Abby nodded and slipped out, left her to her business.

_**Blade**_ leaned in the doorway as she was checking over her long coat for wear. "Finding it yet?" She lifted an eyebrow. "Redemption."

"And love?" She grinned as he nodded, sobered, "Not yet. Expect to be looking for some time yet."

He nodded, slightly. "Let me know if you do." He inclined his head a fraction. "I'll leave you to it."

_'Ha,'_ she thought. _'Too late for that. You're going to be sticking with me for a long time yet, big guy. In here.'_

She had a thought and said, "Blade?" He turned back and looked an inquiry at her.

"I checked on the name you gave me in the Watcher Journals. Your mother was a potential." He raised an eyebrow fractionally, then narrowed his eyes. "It would explain a few things, maybe?"

He nodded, eyes unreadable. She sighed, "Ask Wes, if you want details. He can fill them in for you."

"Thanks," he said, nodding slightly, and left. And she hoped she hadn't wrecked that fragile trust that'd been building...

_**Hannibal**_ found her as she was rummaging through the fridge in the kitchen area, grabbing a snack to go with a last mug of coffee before the road. "Bill for all the groceries is on the counter." He grinned.

"Heh." She snickered, "Put it on my tab?"

"Sure." King looked at her seriously for a bit as she slid onto a stool with her coffee and a sandwich. "So... was all of that real?"

Faith shrugged. "Going to bother you, huh? Did you really save the world and get sucked into a dreamways battle? Or just get sucked into the crazy chick's psychosis?" She laughed.

"Something like that." He nodded, smiling. "I'm finding there's more to this war than just vampires and familiars. Not sure I like it."

"Magic and demons and and slayers and evil undead-oh," She finished her snack. Stood up, and drew on something inside of her. Green fire flickered around her hands, and the two curved Valdris blades she took off the Hellspawn lord came into her hands. She tapped the counter with a blade tip and let him hear it ring.

King stepped back with a 'Whoa!' expression. "All real." Faith grinned. "Welcome to the Saving the World Club. Membership dues need to be in by Samhain, latest."

"Put it on my tab," He straightened. "Wow. Fuck me. That's... "

"Freaky?" Faith nodded and made the blades go away. "Kinda freaks me too." He nodded.

"Still think you're nuts. You just managed to infect me too," he grinned and she met it with a laugh. "Here you go." He reached over and pulled a polished wooden box from a table, and handed it to her, heavy and smooth. She examined the catch and small lock, and gaped at him. He added a smaller, thicker, leather case on top. "Put them away somewhere safe until you get a chance to examine it and think about where you want to go with it."

She closed her mouth and nodded, opening her bag to slide it in. It was about the size of a small briefcase, and he started to say something, shaking his head as it disappeared. "I don't even _want_ to know."

She laughed and he wandered off, still shaking his head. "Damn," she said.

_**Wesley**_ met her by her bike. "Where are you headed first?" he asked.

She shrugged, crossing her arms. "Back across the river, first. Settle things with Vi before I go, and make sure they're closed. Pick up a few things I left. Explain what all went down, if I can. Then... ?" She shook her head. "Don't know. South for awhile."

Wes nodded. "I'll look around through when I get back, see if I can turn anything up for you."

"Thanks."

He looked thoughtful, "I'll start with the birth records. Might not be anything there, if you haven't found it, but it can't hurt."

"Hrrm. White coat... lab coat?" She frowned thoughtfully. "When I asked if she was a doctor, she said 'something like'. Medical?"

"Maybe. Hrrm... " Wesley's eyes narrowed, thinking, "Medical school records, hospitals... Without a name, it's much more difficult."

"Maybe impossible," She nodded, eyes thoughtful. "Wes? Thanks. For all... " She made a gesture that encompassed the last several days and everything.

"You're welcome. And it wasn't anything special."

"No." She shook her head. "It was."

"Quite. Right, then." He nodded, "How about: it wasn't anything you wouldn't do for Angel, or for us?"

"maybe." She nodded, meeting his eyes. "Wes, I'm not sure I managed to say this before when... " She paused, "I'm sorry."

He smiled, "It's done, Faith. What's a little spot of hot, blunt, and sharp between friends, after all?"

Her eyes clouded and he reached and took her chin and tipped it up. "Faith. It's done. It's hard to forget, but it was _forgiven_ a long time ago." He met her eyes. "Just forgive yourself now."

He held her eyes until they cleared finally and she said, "Right."

"Right then." He looked at her bike. "Take care, Faith. Stay in touch."

She watched him walk back in, and watched the door for a long time after it closed, seeing nothing. "Damn."

_'Is that what forgiveness looks like? I don't have any way to know... ' _She buried the still voice inside and kicked the bike to a start.

**...**

She rode out by dark-thirty, heading into New York. At some point, much later, she knew she'd stop and examine the unexpected package Hannibal'd pressed on her near the end, as she was finishing up. And spend a lot of time examining the other things left behind from that, things she hadn't expected a few days back when she rode out of another place with tears blinding the road ahead of her. Much betterer.

"'For I am become a Name'. Damn' right, Slovotsky." She laughed and kicked the bike up to speed. To seek, to find, and not to yield. "Fuckin' A."

_ Finis_


	18. Anything for Love Afterword

_**Afterword:**_

_This_ is the spot where you're going to find all the odd stuff and little bits of trivia I didn't include at the front because it would ruin the story to give it away ahead of time. You can skip this part if you don't like glimpses into the writer's mind. Wouldn't blame you: it's a dismal swamp full of old clutter and warped byways.

I've always liked this character, along with Dawn, Xander, Cordy, Wesley, and a few others. An' it were up to me, following "The Gift", Buffy'd have stayed croaked and it would have become _Faith the Vampire Slayer_. And while I've read almost all of them and enjoyed quite a few... I've never quite bought the concepts that Faith would have settled in training mini-slayers and/or ended up settling down with Xander and living happily-ever. For the one, she's too edgy to last long as a teacher or administrator without going buggy and killing someone... and she doesn't really seem to really _like_ a lot of the people involved in the Post-Chosen IWC, ties that bind notwithstanding. Too much bad history there to get beyond easily. While I could see her liking Xander... they're a bit too different to click as anything except friends and comrades in arms. I could see her clicking with Dawn, Vi, and Wes: it just worked. Robin just _didn't_ click: a bit too slick a fellow in my view.

So rather than bitch in comments on someone else's fics about directions and interpretations, I headed off on my own instead and this is the result. More entertaining, at least to do, and it annoys fewer people.

Not that annoying people really _bothers_ me, you understand, but I _like_ writing. ;

Naturally, Faith's heroes are her own, and as I don't really have access to the inside of her head I just tried to fake it convincingly, I had to kind of guess at it. But... given the background and personality of the character as established, and the glimpses of her personality given, I think it's safe to assume that with few exceptions, she's going to lean a bit to the broken heroes: the slightly bent ones who know what it's like to feel the blackness inside and strive past the darkness in their souls to reach for something _else_. Not pure, not clean, and not by any means white hats... but still managing to reach out of the black and end up however precariously on the side of the good.

People that speak to what she's trying to become and leave signposts along the road map to how it might be done.

For anyone who didn't catch all of the dream references because they don't quite have the same eclectic reading history I do, the decidedly odd group of individuals on the gates are, in no particular order:

Karl Cullinane, Ahira, Andrea, and of course Walter Slovotsky from Rosenberg's Sword and the Chain novels.

Legolas, from LOTR by Tolkien. Possibly an exception to the 'slightly bent dark hero' thing, possibly not.

Elric of Melnibone and Stormbringer; by way of Michael Moorcock.

Travis McGee by way of John D. MacDonald.

Jacob McCandles, Big Jake; ala John Wayne. We thought you were dead, too...

Nicos Bando from Barry B. Longyear's Infinity Hold.

Jianna and Wave, of Dafyyd ab Hugh's Heroing.

Corson and Nyctasia from J.F. Rifkin's Silverglass.

Mack Bolan aka The Executioner, ala Don Pendleton.

Mike Hammer, by Spillane. No doubt snarling curses all the while at the Pit and the mind of the young dame that drug him in there.

Jame of the Kencyrath from P.C. Hodgell, Godstalk.

Hell Tanner of Damnation Alley from Zelazny.

And last but not least, Vlad Taltos, former Jhereg, of Steven Brust's Jhereg cycles and whom without which Faith would never have made the Spire...

Sword of Morgaine from C.J. Cherryh and somehow separated from its owner. Boy, will she ever be pissed when she notices...

Pit by way of Larry Niven and Pournelle's Inferno and the Place Where Only That Which You've Loved Can Save You also from Rosenburg.

Seventeen because that's a mystical number (just ask Vlad) and one to draw them.

Plus a cameo from Will Turner in a guest role in the Adventures of Captain Faith Sparrow, in one of Faith's alternate dream lives.

I'm going to leave the wizard as an exercise for the student. If you've read any or all of the source materials... you probably already have a good idea of some of his thousand or so names, anyway. If not, nyah. Read more. As Faith said: doesn't matter. None of them are now nor ever were his True Name, anyway.

Other Credits: "Bat Out of Hell" lyrics by Jim Steinman, filtered through mine and Faith's heads. "If you could read my mind" from Gordon Lightfoot, and filked a bit by me. "Nowhere Fast" also from Steinman. Other movie, song, and book quotes scattered through are from far too many sources to list: if you're widely read and viewed, you probably caught most of them.

I'm certain there's going to be some readers who may object to my interpretation of Faith-as-reader, and her knowing some of the references herein. All I'm going to say to that is: the girl's got like, facets and shit, and she did spend an awful long time in the crowbar hotel. It's entirely possible that at points in my misspent youth, I've known and talked to a few more ex-cons than possibly Whedon and some folks. When you're in stir, especially when in for the reasons established that Faith stayed in, you find some way to assassinate the clock and make the bars go away... or you die. Find God, join AA, study things you'll never use, become a yard monster, get a degree... _something_ that makes the bars fade. Or read. A LOT. Anything that takes your mind off of the excruciatingly slow tick of the clock and keeps you even semi-sane, stops the rot that kills your soul inside.

Faith chose to read. Losing herself in other worlds gave her a way to recover some sanity and try to stay sane in this one. Deal with it.

Other readers may have issues with my interpretation of Faith as being a pretty damned intelligent young woman. All I can say there is to refer to that misspent youth I mentioned, and reflect that it's possible I know a bit about coming back from the dark and the mean and the violent, and the kind of person it takes.

There aren't many _stupid_ recovering street rats. Not living ones, anyway.

There is no way that that character as was portrayed is stupid. Ignorant maybe, and semi-educated, at best... but that's _not_ the same thing. She's not used to thinking of herself as smart, certainly. And she's hot-tempered and impulsive and forgets to think when her temper kicks in, definitely And, like a lot of abused kids from bad backgrounds... at some point she's probably been brutalized early on into believing she's stupid and will never amount to much. But being at the top of the food chain in a dangerous lifestyle kills _smart_ people: stupid ones die _fast_. Think it through.

Lack of sex: Umm... wah. Don't care how promiscuous someone is portrayed as being, after a relationship crashes in on you along with your hoped-for-future, a lot of time that's the last thing someone is in the mood for. Having been through a few bad breakups... I'm familiar with that. She'll probably get back to the mood eventually, but I'm not sure the "Get some, get gone" days are due for a return.

If some of the spellings strike you as odd, they're British. Colour, humour... I'm not a Brit, but I've been friends with too many of them in my life. Damned language is insidious. So is the accent. Faith's spent too much time around British Watchers, and she's probably been infected a bit too. Deal with it.

As always though... you can't ever address all the nits someone might pick, so if the voices in my head are really _bothering_ you, kiddo - apologies, but move on, and write your own. Fanfic's a big place: don't waste time here if it annoys you. Arguing with the 'bear only frustrates you and amuses me. Just ask my friends.

Anyway, hope ya'll enjoyed it. Future installments and vignettes will be posted as I get a Round Tuit and finish them.

We'll probably see a lot of Faith's travels through the inside of my head, in one form or another. She certainly left me enough plot hooks...

- Ironbear


End file.
